


Naked Blue

by anaisanais



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt, Even’s lips probably deserve their own tag tbh, First Love, Flirting, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marijuana, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Pining, References to Canon, S1!Isak, S2!Isak, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 137,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaisanais/pseuds/anaisanais
Summary: The first time Isak meets Even, he's 16 and definitely not ready.∙An AU where Isak and Even first meet at Sana’s place during Isak’s first year at Nissen and Even’s tumultuous third year at Bakka and everything ismessy.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen, Even Bech Næsheim/Sonja (SKAM), Isak Valtersen & Jonas Noah Vasquez
Comments: 629
Kudos: 702





	1. Free fall

**Author's Note:**

> So, in chapter 16 of my other fic _It's all good baby, baby_ , Even is like "what if we'd met studying at Sana's back when you were a first-year and I was a third-year..." and a story started forming. Hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> The story will be canon-compliant and will include some (edited) canon events/scenes, but I'll be taking some liberties regarding the timeline. The first chapters take place in fall/winter 2015-16, where I assume Even was still at Bakka during his third year. 
> 
> Note: In the first 10 chapters Isak is 16 and Even is 18/19. There will be some sexual content in the early chapters (more later on.) I didn't tag 'underage', because 16 is the age of consent in Norway, but proceed with caution if it makes you icky. 
> 
> Title is from _Naked Blue_ by awesome Norwegian band Kakkmaddafakka.

**Monday, 23 November 2015**

There’s about five minutes left of science class, and Isak has paid roughly zero attention for the past 40 minutes, instead opting to draw Illuminati triangles in his _Science for First Year_ textbook and semi-discreetly texting Jonas memes with his iPhone hidden under the table, so the teacher won’t notice. He likes science, he really does, but he’s tired and can’t focus and there’s something about the teacher’s voice, the way she just drones on and on in her monotonous teacher-voice, that makes him tune out and doodle in his textbook/come up with funny memes instead of actually listening.

“...For this project, which will be a 5-page assignment on CO2-emissions and global warming, you’ll work in pairs. The paper is due on Friday. Your partner will be the person to your right, and-“

A little slap to his arm makes him briefly look up to his right, eyes settling on Sana, who raises her eyebrows at him. He gives her a curt nod, acknowledging that they are partners now, apparently. 

She looks him over.  
“You better get it together and be able to concentrate, when we work on this assignment.”  
  
He rolls his eyes back at her. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Sana is smart. She likes science just as much as himself, and she’s great at it too. He has sat next to her in class enough times to know that she can hold her own in discussions on natural selection, relativity and even quantum physics and parallel universes.

So really, it’s cool that the teacher paired him with Sana, he feels chill about it, likehe could’vebeenpaired up with Sara whom he dated for a week last year, and who still flirts with him at parties, and who knows _nothing_ about science. That would’ve sucked. So yeah being paired with Sana is cool. Right until she turns to him with a stern voice.

“Look, I have a German essay _and_ a Norwegian essay due next week, so… Can you meet up and work on this thing today?” she taps a pen on the desk, and Isak’s enthusiasm for being paired up with her is dwindling by the millisecond. Schoolwork was in no way on his to-do list for today, and he’d been looking forward to kick back at Jonas’ for an afternoon of Call of Duty. Just the two of them. No Eva or Jonas’ little sister Thea, or _Elias_.

But Sana just narrows her eyes and shoots him a strict “is that alright with you, or?”, and he knows there is _no way_ she’ll acknowledge gaming as a valid excuse for not doing schoolwork, so he nods with a weak eye roll. “Yeah, okay. We can work on it today, I guess.”

It’s only 5 pages. And this way, at least he won’t have to spend time on it later this week. He _will_ have to text Jonas though, and tell him that he can’t make it this afternoon, and that sorta sucks. Still, at least he’s not stuck with some chick, who’s more interested in gossiping about other chicks or making out, than actually getting some work done.

“What time are you done today?” Sana asks.

“Uh, 15:00.”

“Okay. I’m done at 14:00. How about you come to my place when you’re done? I live pretty close to here.” she says, and her no-bullshit, all-business tone of voice is nothing like how chicks usually talk to him, and Isak appreciates it.

“Yeah, okay.” He agrees, and Sana is already packing up her textbook and laptop, standing up from the chair.

“I’ll text you my address.” She says and is out the door, before he gets his phone out of his pocket to text Jonas.

∙

At 15:12 Isak is at Sana’s apartment building, double checking the message she sent him with her address and then scanning over the names, finally pressing the button next to the little sign reading _Bakkoush_. He blows on his hands to try to warm them in the cold late-November air and does a few small jumps on the spot to keep warm. Then there’s the click of the door and he pushes it open and walks up the stairs.

Sana greets him at the door and points to a clothes rack with hangers and jackets.

“You can hang up your jacket here.”

He nods and hangs his jacket on a hanger, stuffing his dark-blue beanie in the jacket pocket. Then he toes out of his sneakers and pushes them to the side next to Sana’s white Air Force 1s and three pairs of trashed guys sneakers haphazardly scattered on the floor.

He cards a hand through his hair and follows Sana to the kitchen.

“Do you want some water?” She asks, opening an overhead cabinet with glasses.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” He smiles politely, and Sana nods and pulls out two glasses, filling them with water. 

Then there’s the sound of a door opening somewhere in the apartment, and loud voices laughing and joking.

_“Nooo, she didn’t say that?! Isabel said that??”_

_“She did, man. I swear.”_

_“Whatever, I don’t believe you, dude."_

Isak looks at the three guys as they come scrambling into the kitchen. Two of them have dark hair; one has a crewcut and the other longish hair reaching down to his shoulders. The last guy is wearing a black Wu-Tang hoodie and a Yankees cap with locks of dirty-blonde hair peeking out underneath it, and Isak can’t stop looking at him. He’s tall; something like seven or eight inches taller than his friends, who are kinda short like Jonas. At 5’11 Isak considers himself tall-ish, but this guy looks to be four or five inches taller than him. Also, he’s... Pretty. Not like Jonas is good-looking with his dark curls and bushy eyebrows. This dude is _pretty_. With his sharp cheekbones and jaw, blue eyes and full lips, he’s hands down the most beautiful guy, Isak has ever seen. There’s a sorta slight indent in the middle of his bottom lip, that Isak can’t take his eyes off. He wants to have a closer look. Kinda wants to touch, too.

Then the guy catches his eyes and quirks an easy smile at him, and Isak suddenly feels lightheaded. He drops his eyes to the ground, eyes settling on sock-clad feet.

“Hi sis.”

Isak tentatively trails his eyes up again at the words coming from one of the other guys - the one with the crew cut -who’s apparently Sana’s brother.

”What do you want?” Sana narrows her eyes at him, and Isak can’t help his lips pulling into a tiny smile at the sibling dynamic that reminds him of himself and Lea, his older sister.

”Chill. We’re just getting something to drink.” Sana’s brother replies with a smile. Then he smirks, nodding his head at Isak. ”Who’s this? You haven’t told me you have a boyfriend?”

Sana is quick to shoot her brother a pointed stare. “Ugh, shut up. This is Isak. From science class. We’re working on a project.”

”Okay, okay.” Her brother smiles and stretches his hand out to him.

”Hi, I’m Elias.”

Isak recoils a tiny bit at the name, thoughts immediately straying to Jonas’ asshole friend/weed connection, who keeps hanging around, cracking gay jokes and commenting on his taste in music, clothes, everything. And he knows rationally that _this_ Elias is not the same guy, but there’s still something that reminds him a bit of him. It could be just the name, or the fact that they have the same hair color. 

He shakes it off, just before the silence turns awkward, and takes the guy’s hand.  
  
“Isak.”

Elias smiles and jerks his head at the two other guys. ”This is Mikael and Even.”

“Hey.” They both say, and Isak gives a short noncommittal glance and a nod, making sure not to look at _him_ for too long, muttering a quick ”hey.”

He memorizes his name, though. _Even_. Lets it settle in the back of his mind, even though chances are he’ll probably never meet him again.

Then Sana brushes past him with two glasses of water and a curt “let’s go.” and Isak follows her out of the kitchen, careful not to look at _Even_ again, and into the corridor heading for her room. 

“Have fun with your _science project_...” Elias’ teasing voice floats behind them and Isak can almost _feel_ Sana rolling her eyes.

∙

They have been working in concentration for a little over two hours, debating global warming, including whether or not Al Gore’s movie on the topic can be considered a valid source or not, and subsequently doing a lot of googling, when Sana’s mother pops her head in through the door. She looks a little surprised, when she sees him.

“Oh. Hello.” She smiles. Isak smiles back, taking in her discreet makeup and black hijab. 

“Hei.” He says back a bit awkwardly, because really this whole interacting with parents is so not his thing. He’s so bad with parents.

Sana’s mom then directs her gaze to Sana and smiles. “You didn’t tell me you had company today?”

“No? Well, this is Isak. From school. We’re working on a project.” Sana says in explanation.

Her mother nods with a smile. “Okay. What’s the project on?” She looks between Sana and him, and Isak fleetingly thinks that he hasn’t seen that look on his own mother in a while. Genuine interest.

“Uh, it’s for science class. CO2-emissions and global warming.” Sana says.

“Okay.” Her mother smiles. “...Well, nice to meet you, Isak.” 

“You too.” Isak manages. 

Sana’s mother takes a step back and is about to turn around, but then she turns back to look at him. “Do you want to stay for dinner, Isak? Elias’ friends are joining us, too.”

“Uh...” Isak wavers, casting Sana a side-glance, but her face doesn’t provide him with any clues as to what his answer should be. The image of Even’s lips flashes for a second, before he quells the image. Next his mind jumps to how he can’t remember the last time he had friends stay for dinner. Jonas hasn’t stayed for dinner since sometime last year.

 _Before mom went crazy_ , he thinks bitterly.

He swallows and looks up at Sana’s mom. 

“Uh. Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great.” She smiles. Then she looks at Sana “Dinner will be ready around 19:00.”

“Thanks mom.”

Sana’s mom smiles and turns around, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. 

Isak looks over at Sana and clears his throat “is it okay that I, uh, stay for dinner?”

She briefly looks up from her laptop. “Sure. Maybe we can finish this up after dinner and be done with it.” 

He nods and they continue to work side by side for a while until Sana’s mother calls out “dinner!” and they walk out of Sana’s room and towards the living-room with Sana leading the way. 

Then there’s the sound of some old-school hip-hop floating out from an open door, as well as a deep, frustrated groan and a “but like, isn’t there an equation for that, or?”, and as Isak walks by the open door, he can’t help looking inside. 

Inside is Elias in a swivel chair by a desk, a couple of Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg posters hanging on the wall above him. Even, and the other guy from before - Mikael? - sit cross legged on a couch with laptops in their laps. Isak’s eyes are drawn to Even’s hands resting on the keyboard, his eyes focused on the screen. He drums his long fingers on the keyboard for a second, and then leans his head back with a frustrated sigh.

“Ugh, I fucking hate physics.”

“Same, man. Why did we even choose this fucking elective?” Mikael says. 

“Yeah, we could’ve picked something _easy_. Like psychology or something. Just like Mutta and Adam and Yousef.” Even groans.

Elias snorts a laugh, then stands up. “Yeah well, nothing to do about it now. Come on, guys. Let’s just have dinner and then we’ll try to sort this shit out afterwards. We can try to ask my sis or something...”

The guys agree and stand up, and Isak realizes that he’s staring, and he hurries to follow Sana, a few steps ahead of him, into the dining room. He registers the sound of footsteps behind him. 

∙

Dinner feels sorta awkward for him, because everyone seems to know each other - except for him. He definitely feels like the odd one out; Mikael and Even converse easily with Elias and Sana and even Sana’s parents. And Isak is _so_ bad at small talking with parents. But he does manage to answer “Grefsen.”, when Sana’s mother asks him, if he lives close by, and “yeah, uh. It’s fine, I guess.” when Sana’s dad asks him how he likes Nissen so far. 

Even sits directly across from him, and he can feel him looking at him, smiling even, as he scrambles for words. And seeing Even’s smile out of the corner of his eyes makes him equal parts desperate to look at him and determined to avoid it; too afraid to let his gaze linger. 

He’s finally off the hook, when Even half-turns to Sana’s mom with a smile, complimenting her on her cooking.

“This is really delicious. As always. Did you use saffron?”

“Thank you, Even. I did, yes. I’m glad you like it.” She smiles back. “…You’re always such a nice boy.” Then she directs her gaze at Elias, faux-sternly. “You could learn a thing or two from Even, Elias.” 

Even snorts a laugh and places a hand over his heart with a “shukran.” and Isak watches as Elias gives his mom an eyeroll, and Isak can definitely see that he and Sana are siblings. 

“Ugh, mom, we can’t all be like him.” Elias complains, nodding at Even.

Even snorts a laugh and grabs Elias’ shoulder, shaking it gently. “Hey, you should always be nice to your mom though, man.”

Sana’s father smiles. “It’s true. Women are to be treated with respect.”

Isak looks at Sana, who’s sending Elias a gloating smirk, and then Sana’s mom passes him the huge pot of chicken stew with a smile.

“Here Isak, have some more food. You boys are all so skinny. You need food to grow.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” Isak says, accepting the pot, and when he glances up, he catches Even raising his eyebrows slightly and smiling at him, nodding minutely at the pot.

So, Isak ladles up a few more spoonfuls of chicken stew, and lets the spicy flavors mix on his tongue, wondering how the fuck saffron tastes. 

∙

After dinner, Isak and Sana retreat to Sana’s room to continue working on their global warming-paper, that’s progressing much quicker than Isak had hoped for. They’ve barely reopened their laptops though, when there’s a knock on the door and Elias pops his head in.

“Siiiiiiis, can you come help me and the guys out for a sec?” he begs.

Sana squints her eyes at Elias. “Help you with what? I’m kinda working here.” She gestures to her laptop and Isak.

“It’s just that we have a physics lab report to hand in tomorrow, and we can’t figure out the g-effect…and since you’re such a science ner-“

Sana gives him a look, and Elias clears his throat, “...um, since you’re so _smart,_ I was wondering if you had a second to spare. To help your brother out. Pleaaaaaaaase?” He bats his eyelashes in an attempt to look cute. 

She just raises an eyebrow at him. “You know we probably haven’t even covered that stuff yet, right?”

Elias nods. ”I know. But can you please just look at it? Or maybe help us make sense of the textbook?” he bites his lip, gives her another pleading look.

Sana rolls her eyes at him, “Okay, whatever. So, g-effect? Do you mean g- _force_?”

“Yeah. Gravitational _something,_ I don’t know…” Elias says with a sigh.

“Gravitational acceleration?” Isak supplies.

Elias looks at him. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

Sana stands up and jerks her head, motioning for Isak to follow, and they both trail after Elias to his room.

Once they step inside, Even and Mikael look up from where they’re sitting in Elias’ couch, laptops flipped open in their laps.

”I brought backup, guys.” Elias exclaims gesturing at Sana and Isak.

“Thank God.” Mikael moans, and Even shoots them both a smile. ”Nice. Thank you for helping us out.”

“Yeah well, no promises.” Sana says with a shrug, and Even solemnly nods. “Of course.” His smile stays in place though, and Isak’s mouth goes dry.

Elias leans forward and angles his laptop, so Sana and Isak can see. “Yeah, so this is it, uh.”

Isak welcomes the distraction from Even’s smile and steps closer, letting his eyes scan over the text.

“So, you’ve done some experiments with free-falling objects? And you’re supposed to determine the gravitational acceleration?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Elias says, looking somewhat surprised back at him.

“Uh, _we_ didn’t do the experiments…” Mikael pipes up from behind, and Isak turns around to see him wave a hand between himself and Even.

“...No, these guys thought it was a great idea to ditch class and get high instead…” Elias huffs out in explanation to Isak.

“Sorry.” Even bites his lip, and Isak files away the information. Likes to smoke up, check.

Isak forces himself to look away from Even biting his lip, and turns back to Elias. “But _you_ did the experiments? So, you have the data?”

“Yes.” Elias nods and scrolls up to a table of results.

“Okay.” Isak says, eyes scanning over the numbers.

“Well, if you have the data, it shouldn’t be so hard, should it.” Sana cuts in and scans over the numbers as well. “…Can’t you just calculate the initial velocity and-“

“The initial velocity is zero, because it’s a free-fall experiment.” Isak says, eyes still on the screen.

“Oh. Right.” Sana says.

Elias gestures to the swivel chair, smiling at Isak, who plops down and scrolls through the document, quickly making sense of the experiment and the objective of the report.

“Okay.” He nods to himself, “…you need to determine _g_ as a function of displacement, so you just…” he grabs the physics textbook lying on the desk and flips a few pages back and forth trying to find the paragraph describing gravitational acceleration for free-falling objects.

“Yeah, here. Use this kinematic equation.” He points to an equation in the textbook, “...you already have the variables v, t and a, so you just insert them in this equation, and you’ll get the value for ‘d’, which is the displacement. Easy.” He winks, feeling a bout of self-confidence.

Elias looks back at him wide-eyed, then looks down at the page. “Uh. Wow. Thanks.”

Isak nods “no problem.” and stands up from the swivel chair. “...What year are you in, though?” he smirks, looking from Elias to Mikael and Even.

”They’re third-years…” Sana supplies.

”At Bakka.” Even smiles.

”Oh, well… that explains it.” Isak sasses.

”Explains what?” Even smiles, eyebrows drawing together in question.

”Why you’re struggling with basic physics. I mean, aren’t you Bakka-people all about _creative media_ , street-art and drinking pretentious hand-picked coffee at Tim Wendelboe between classes?” he smirks, looking at Even.

”Oiiiii burn, bro! You just described 90% of Elvebakken, including these two fuckers here...” Elias laughs, waving a hand between Even and Mikael.

Even also cracks a laugh at his rant and Isak registers how the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs and how sharp his canines look.

“Hey, what’s wrong with creative media and ethically sourced coffee?” Even shoots back, and Mikael snorts a laugh. “...thought you were more into _ethically sourced_ _weed_ , bro.”

“That too.” Even smiles.

“Shit I swear, if my mom knew how much weed you smoke, she wouldn’t be all like _Even you’re such a sweet boy, blah blah blah.._.” Elias trails off.

Even snorts a little laugh and then bites his lip imploringly. “Don’t tell her, please.”

The corners of Isak’s lips pull into a crooked smile, and then Sana speaks up.

“Anyway, do you need more help to write your _third-year_ lab report, or can Isak and I go back to our own project?” she asks cheekily.

“Nah, we’re good, I think.” Elias smiles, “…not that _you_ were much of a help, sis.”

Sana rolls her eyes, and Elias turns to Isak again. “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Mikael and Even echo.

“No problem.” Isak says, and then Sana whips around, and Isak follows, sending Elias a little salute, and a short glance at Mikael and Even before leaving the room.

“Sorry about that.” Sana says as they step into the corridor, heading to her room.

“No worries. I don’t mind.” He replies.

∙

A few hours later, Sana clicks _submit_ and then looks up from her laptop screen. “There. Done. It’s uploaded.”

“Sweet.” Isak replies, lifting his hand to cover his mouth in a yawn. Then he packs his textbook and laptop in his backpack and pulls on his hoodie. “Nice working with you, Sana.”

“You too, Isak.” She looks up at him and smiles. “...Also, nice job on serving my brother and his friends. They’re so full of themselves because they’re third-years.”

Isak shrugs. “I think they seemed alright, actually. I mean, the third-years at Nissen are much worse…”

“True.” She nods. “...Those rich-kid Penetrator guys with their Porches or whatever.” She rolls her eyes.  
“Yeah.” Isak agrees with a smile.   
“Well, Even is cool I guess, and Mikael is _occasionally_ cool. Elias is a douchebag, though.” She deadpans.

Isak snorts a laugh. “Okay.”  
For a second he considers asking Sana about Even, like what’s his last name or his insta- or snapchat handle, anything really. But yeah, that would probably be weird, so he refrains.

“Anyway, see you in class tomorrow.” He says instead.

She nods. “See you.”

He slings his backpack over his shoulder and pads out into the corridor to put on his shoes and jacket. He stops in his tracks though, when he sees Even bent over, tying his trashed Nikes.  
  
Even smiles up at him before standing back up. “Hey. Going home?”

“Yeah.” Isak manages, taking down his jacket from the hanger and shrugging into it. Then he toes into his sneakers and hoists his backpack on.

“Where is, uh...” he looks around the corridor.

“Mikael?” Even smiles, shrugging into his own jacket and opening the door for Isak.

“Yeah.” Isak nods and then mutters a low “uh, thanks.” at Even for opening the door for him.

“...He bailed about an hour ago.” Even smiles, as they both start descending the stairs.

“Oh. Okay.” Isak says, all previous bravado gone, when he feels Even’s shoulder brush against his own.

“Yeah, he just vanished. Left Elias and me with all the tricky stuff.” Even casts him a side-glance. 

“ _Tricky stuff_? You mean those basic kinetic equations?” Isak bounces back, defaulting to sarcasm. Familiar territory.

Even quirks a smile, opening the door to the street and the cold and pitch-black November evening. He motions for Isak to go first, and he does, but they both come to a stop on the pavement right outside the door.

“Well, we can’t all be geniuses, you know.” Even winks, or rather, _attempts_ _to wink_ , and Isak feels funny.

“I‘m not a _genius_.” He says, pulling the sleeves of his threadbare green Etnies hoodie down to cover his knuckles, wiping his nose against his sleeve.

“Okay.” Even smiles. “…You did sound pretty pro up there, though.”

Isak shrugs. “Physics is my subject. I know my shit.”

Even smiles. “It’s definitely _not_ my subject.”

“No, I kinda got that, seeing as you guys needed help from a couple of first-years.” Isak smirks, getting a laugh out of Even, and then he’s left with that weird, fuzzy feeling again. He’s aware of his lips quirking into a smile entirely on their own accord.

“What _is_ your subject then?” he then asks.

“Creative media.” Even smiles.

Isak can’t help snorting a laugh at the obviousness of it. “Of course.” he says with a nod.

Even laughs. “Wow, you really hate Bakka, huh?”

Isak quirks a crooked smile. “Nah. I just think it’s pretentious is all.”

“Okay.” Even nods, but he’s still smiling, and Isak feels funny again. The silence stretches between them, and he suddenly feels hot all over, despite the air being close to freezing. 

“So, which way are you heading?” Even finally asks him.

“Uh, Grefsen.”

“Me too.” Even smiles. “Or, Bjølsen actually, but it’s close.” He winds a wool scarf around his neck. “How are you getting home? Tram?”

Isak’s mind short-circuits and his heart rate picks way up at the thought of sitting next to Even in the tram.

“Uh, no. Bike.” He lies.

“Okay.” Even nods and gives him one more smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Isak.”

“Yeah, uh, you too. Even.” Isak stutters, mind stuck on the way Even said his name. 

Even turns around and walks in the direction of the tram, and Isak walks a few steps back, pretending to unlock a bike. 

He waits a good ten minutes before he walks to the tram, and when he gets there, there are thankfully no traces of Even.

On the tram ride home, he pulls up his phone, opening Instagram and Facebook searching for Even. Via Sana’s Facebook profile he navigates to Elias’ and finds a few photos where Even is tagged along with five other guys. He studies the pictures, and then clicks on the tag, navigating to Even’s profile. His profile is not public though, and there’s almost no information about him. Isak clicks on his profile pic and his cover photo which looks like a weird Seinfeld meme. Isak scrolls around a bit more, and then pockets his phone.

∙

When he gets home, the house is quiet, so he’s careful to not make any noise when he toes out of his sneakers, hangs up his jacket and sets his backpack on the floor.

He makes a quick stop at the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth and then he heads to his room and strips down to his boxers before flopping down on his bed. He leans over and picks up his phone from the pocket of his jeans discarded on the floor. Then he spends a few minutes scrolling through Reddit and Insta and Facebook before opening up a new browser window and navigating to Pornhub. He scrolls down over thumbnail after thumbnail with titles like “ _Hot_ _blonde gets deepthroated_ ” and “ _Amateur cam girl will make you cum_ ”.

He picks a random video with a decent-looking guy and a girl, pressing play and making sure to turn the volume down low.

He shoves a hand down his boxers and tugs himself half-heartedly for a good minute, before giving up and letting his arm flop down on the bed with a frustrated sound from the back of his throat. He looks up at the dark ceiling for a couple of moments before lifting up his phone again and navigating to Pornhub Gay. His cheeks heat up and his heart starts beating violently against his ribcage as the page loads, and he’s hard as soon as the first thumbnails are fully loaded.  
He turns the volume off entirely and clicks on a video titled “ _Frat boys go wild at college party_ ”, wrapping his right hand around himself again. One of the guys in the video is tall and dirty-blonde, wearing a snapback, and Isak’s dick grows harder in his palm. If he squints, the guy kinda looks like-

He strokes himself to flashes of strong hands, long fingers, sharp cheekbones and plush lips, those lips, lips, lips, li-. He comes in his palm with a choked moan.

∙

When he wakes up the next morning, he has a missed alarm and a very wet, very sticky spot in his boxers. He barely has time to think _what the fuck_ , then his mom is knocking at his door.

”Isak, it’s time to get up… don’t you have school today?”

”Uh yeah.” He all but squeaks, heart racing. “...Yes. I’m up.” He chokes out lamely to keep his mom from coming in, from seeing him. From _knowing_.

“Good.” His mom replies, and the door remains closed.

Isak breathes out a sigh of relief and gets out of bed, stepping out of his boxers, throwing them in the bottom of his closet and putting on a new pair before heading for the shower.


	2. Next stop: Disen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Isak's dad leaving and his mom breaking down, Jonas <3, studying at the Bakkoush's again, a tram ride and a Wu-Tang hoodie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mental breakdown (Isak's mom), crying, angst, homophobia (kinda? not explicit though.)

It’s a few days after he first meets Even at Sana’s, that everything goes to shit. He comes home from school on a late-November Friday afternoon to his dad packing a couple of bags and leaving without so much as looking at him.

And his mom…Well. She breaks down. So Isak spends the night trying to calm her down, futilely calling both his dad, his aunt Kari and Lea, his older sister. No one picks up, and his mom is crying so hysterically, she can’t even form sentences.

Around midnight he finally gets ahold of his sister Lea and, with a hand covering his other ear, to be able to hear what she’s saying, he tells her what’s happening.

“Hei. Uh, mom is, uh…”

“What?” his sister asks, sounding resigned.

“Uh, dad left. And mom is… not doing well.”

“He left? Like _left_ left?” she asks.

“I don’t know. He packed a couple of bags and drove off.”

“Oh.” She says, and there’s a pause on the line.

“But, uh.” Isak taps his foot nervously, “…mom is not doing well. She’s been crying for eight hours now. Like, _sobbing_. And she’s shaking. I don’t… know-”

“Okay.” Lea says calmly. “Has she been drinking?”

Isak thinks for a second, doing a pivot on the spot to look for bottles.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” Lea says. “…Go to mom and dad’s bedroom and open the nightstand on mom’s side. There should be some pill bottles.”

“Okay.” Isak nods and walks to his parents’ bedroom, quickly casting a glance at his mother still lying on the couch. Still crying.

“Did you find them?” Lea asks.

“Yes.” Isak replies, picking up a couple of bottles, turning them in his hand, reading the labels.

“The one that says ‘Valium 5 mg’, open that one and take out one pill, only one, and give it to her.”

“What the fuck?” Isak squeaks, feeling his heart race. He turns the pill bottle in his hand, scanning the words. “It says on the bottle it’s a _sedative_ , Lea. What the-, why-, how did you know she kept these in-“ he stutters, his words failing him.

“It will calm her down. Help her sleep.” His sister says calmly. “Trust me, Isak. I’ve… been there. Where you are now.”

“What’s wrong with her, Lea?” he chokes out.

“I don’t know.” His sister says, and Isak feels a tear roll down his cheek.

“Do you think dad left, because she’s...” he drops his voice to a whisper, “...crazy?”

“I don’t know.” She answers.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” he asks, voice thick.

“I don’t know.” She says simply, patiently, and Isak just nods, not for the first time wishing his sister was in Oslo instead of Berlin.

“Are you going to be okay?” she then asks in a soft voice.

“Yeah.” he sniffs and rubs at his nose with his sleeve.

“Okay.” She says and there’s a pause on the line. Isak wills himself to not start crying, tries to keep his breath from hitching.

“Hey Is, call aunt Kari tomorrow, if mom isn’t doing better by then.” Lea then says.

“Yeah, I will.” He replies numbly, refraining from telling her how he’s spent the last eight hours trying to reach their aunt Kari.

“Okay. Take care, baby bro.” Lea finally says and Isak mutters a “yeah, you too, sis.”

Then he ends the call, but before he slips his phone into his jeans pocket, it vibrates in his hand with a new message.

* * *

**Lea**

0:06

I’m sorry.

* * *

He sucks in an unsteady breath and closes his eyes hard to stop the tears from falling. Then he pockets his phone and shakes out a valium from the bottle, walks back to the living room and slips his mother the pill along with a glass of water.

She calms down after about 20 minutes and falls asleep on the couch. Isak covers her with a blanket and gets semi-comfortable in an armchair next to the couch, watching her. He finally nods off around 3am, and when he wakes up the next morning at 7am, his mom is still fast asleep. When he sees her lying unmoving in the exact same position as the night before, he’s filled with instant panic. So he moves closer, then leans down, turning his ear to her mouth. He hears the faint sound of her slow, deep breaths and lets out a relieved breath of his own. At least she didn’t die on him overnight.

He gingerly gets up, stretches his arms and his back, trying to work out the kinks from having spent the night in an armchair. Next, he walks to the kitchen, downs a glass of water, and then he takes up his phone from his jeans pocket, flipping it in his hand a few times, debating whether to call or not. He finally opens his contacts, scrolls down to “J” and calls Jonas.

He picks up on the second ring, even though it’s early; especially for a Saturday.

“Iss? What’s up?” Jonas asks, voice a little sleep-rough.

“Uh, hey.” Isak takes a deep breath, tries not to cry, “…it’s uh, my mom…”

“What happened? ”Jonas asks in a concerned tone. 

“She, uh. Well. My dad left and-“ Isak chokes up.

There’s a beat of silence on the phone. Then “I’m coming over. I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Okay, Is?”

Isak nods, tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

“Isak?” Comes Jonas’ voice from the phone again, and Isak remembers that Jonas can’t see him nodding. He manages a “yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Of course.” Jonas says simply, and when he hangs up, Isak clutches his phone to his chest, not for the first time thanking whatever non-existing higher powers for the existence of his best friend.

∙

True to his word Jonas gets there fifteen minutes later, and as soon as he’s let him in and closed the door behind him, Isak starts rambling, hyperventilating.

“She, uh. She’s… he just left and-“ he speed-talks, and Jonas quickly shrugs out of his rain-wet jacket and wraps Isak in a tight hug. Isak lets out a shaky breath, calming down a bit in Jonas’ arms.

“What happened?” Jonas asks, tentatively releasing his hold on him.

Isak takes a quick glance over Jonas’ shoulder to see his mom still passed out on the couch. That valium hit her hard.

“Uh.” He sniffs and rubs at his nose with the back of his hand, then looks at Jonas. “My dad left. Yesterday when I came home from school, he just took off with a couple of bags. Didn’t even fucking look at me.”

“What?” Jonas frowns.

“Yeah.”

 _Guess I wasn’t worth sticking around for_. He thinks bitterly. 

“Shit.” Jonas says, and Isak just nods.

“…and your mom?” Jonas asks softly, tentatively, as to not overstep a line.

“Yeah, she’s… she didn’t really cope that well to put it like that…” Isak snorts a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

“Is she-“ Jonas looks around, then sees her through the door to the living-room, still on the couch.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping. But uh…” Isak looks down, kicks lightly at a knot in the hardwood floor. “I had to, like…” he drops his voice, “… _sedate_ her. With valium.” He looks up again to see Jonas’ reaction, scared of the look on his best friend’s face, but at the same time it seems too _fucked up_ not to mention.

“Seriously?” Jonas lifts his eyebrows, and Isak nods silently.

“That’s-. Shit, that’s rough, Issy.” Jonas says, looking solemn, and definitely older than sixteen. “Has she ever… has it ever been like that before, I mean…” Jonas says and Isak swallows.

“No, never like that… she just… wouldn’t stop crying. Wouldn’t calm down. She was shaking, and then she started rambling how she couldn’t _take it anymore_ , and she _didn’t want to live_ and-“ Isak cuts off, and looks down at his foot nudging at the knot in the wood, as he tries to hide the tears in his eyes. 

“You did the right thing, Issy.” Jonas says, and Isak wipes away a couple of stray tears with his sleeve.

Jonas looks at him kindly, dark eyes boring into his own. “She needs to rest.”

“Yeah.” Isak says weakly. “It was kinda… _fucked up_.” he admits and feels tears well up again.

“I get that. It’s okay. It’s okay, Is.” Jonas wraps him in another hug, and Isak lets himself slump against his best friend, even though he’s a few inches taller. He feels tired. So tired.

∙

Jonas does his best trying to convince him to go to his room to lie down and relax, but Isak insists on watching over his mom. So, they camp out in the living-room with a couple of bowls of cereal and the tv on for a few hours, because it’s too awkward to talk, and Isak is too tired anyway. Instead they watch episode after episode of Narcos, until his mom finally wakes up. When she sees Jonas there, she just glares at Isak, then at Jonas and then she gets up from the couch and slowly makes her way to the bedroom, mumbling something about _the end times_. She closes the door behind her, and Isak drops his eyes to his feet, feeling too ashamed to even look at Jonas. He swallows drily.

Seeing his mother like this is hard. He knows something has been _off_ for a while, she’s been getting increasingly neurotic and paranoid, and _crazy_ , but this is bad. He’s never seen her like this before.

“Do we-, what should we do?” Jonas asks, his eyes settled on the closed door to the bedroom.

“I don’t know.” Isak says weakly, the words catching in his throat.

“Doesn’t your mom have a sister?” Jonas turns and looks at him, and Isak nods.

“Yeah, aunt Kari.”

“Maybe you should call her?”

“I tried last night, but.” Isak pulls a hopeless shrug but takes up his phone and calls his aunt anyway. This time she picks up, and Isak has never been so happy to hear his aunt’s voice. 

∙

His aunt gets there about an hour later, and Isak lets her take over with his mom, and he retreats to his room with Jonas in tow. They power up his PlayStation and launch into a game of FIFA. Isak’s phone keeps buzzing in his pocket though, and when he takes it up to check, he has a few unanswered calls from Eva, including a voice mail. He doesn’t listen to it, just turns his phone off, because he can’t deal with anything right now. He feels sick.

They game FIFA for a little while longer, then Isak feels his eyelids droop.

“Need to get some sleep, man.” He says hoarsely and gracelessly flops down on his back on the bed.

Jonas slides down to the floor, leaning his back against the bed and turns the game off, navigating to Netflix and turning the volume down. Then he smiles up at him. “Sure. You look like you could use it.”

Isak drifts off into a light sleep, at one point registering the doorbell and that Jonas gets up.

When he comes back to the room a few minutes later, Isak cracks an eye open.

“Who was it?”

“Eva. I think she wants to talk to you about something. Anyway, I told her now wasn’t the best time.” Jonas answers and Isak feels a heavy feeling settling, guilt seeping through every pore.

 _I fucked it up._ He thinks with his heart in his throat, heart pounding with shame for fucking it up between Eva and Jonas. Because he’s a fuck up himself. Because he’s petty and jealous and wants, what he can’t have. And here Jonas is, taking care of him, because his mom is crazy, and he doesn’t _know_ what he did, and if he knew, he’d probably up and leave, and then he’d have _nobody_ and-.

He mutters a feeble “okay. Thanks.” and then shuts his eyes closed, trying to ignore his racing thoughts and aiming for sleep one more time.

∙

Jonas is still there when he wakes up again in the late afternoon, and they eventually put together a sad dinner of overcooked pasta and ketchup and Jonas ends up staying the night on an old sleeping mat next to his bed. And then they spend most of the next day gaming and watching Netflix.

Aunt Kari stays until Sunday evening as well, but Isak hardly sees her as she’s holed up with his mom in the bedroom. And Isak prefers it that way, because it saves _him_ from having to deal with her. 

Both Jonas and aunt Kari eventually leave though – aunt Kari the first one to jump ship.  
Isak feels a weird mix of gratitude and resentment towards her, as she knocks on the door to his room and pops her head in.

“Hey, Isak. I need to get home, I have work in the morning. And I should get home to Håvard and the kids.”

“Of course.” Isak says. “Uh, mom-“

“She’s sleeping again.” His aunt replies.

Isak nods.

“I’ve been trying to reach your dad, but…” his aunt says, and Isak feels his stomach drop. He catches Jonas look at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I haven’t been able to reach him either.” Isak manages and his aunt nods curtly.

“Well…” she says and then her hand is on the door handle, “I should go.” She nods at Jonas and then she closes the door behind her and next is the sound of the front door closing with a click.

Jonas turns to look at him. “Do you want me to stay until tomorrow?”

Isak swallows, already feeling alone. So alone.

“No, it’s fine. Tomorrow is Monday. So, school.”

“Yeah.” Jonas says. “…but I can stay, I mean-“

“No no, it’s fine.” Isak says quickly.

“Okay.” Jonas hesitates, his eyes heavy on him. Isak can’t handle it, so he looks at the tv screen instead.

He senses Jonas stand up from the floor before he sees it.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?” Jonas asks, shrugging into his hoodie.

“I don’t know.” Isak says.

“Okay.” Jonas says as he zips up his hoodie. “Text me, if you need anything. Okay, Isak? I mean it.”

Isak looks up at him. “Thanks.”

“Always, man.” Jonas sends him a soft smile, and it stirs something within Isak. Makes his heart beat a little faster.

He follows Jonas out and closes the door behind him, watching from the kitchen window as he gets on his bike and drives off in the light snow, following him with his eyes as he turns a corner and drives out of sight.

He forces his feet to turn around, to go check on his mother in the bedroom, but he doesn’t make it that far. Because when he turns around, he almost walks right into her.

She doesn’t look like herself; her hair, usually tied in a bun or a ponytail, is down, looking tangled and unkempt. She’s got a weird look in her eyes, that Isak can’t quite place. Fear, maybe. Or contempt. 

”Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who _hear_ , and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near. When you see all these things, you know that it is near, right at the door.”

Isak just looks at her, frozen on the spot.

Then she grabs his arm, nails digging into his skin. Hard. She looks terrified, as she continues to spit what he guesses is bible verses, at him.

“Don’t you realize that those who do wrong will not inherit the Kingdom of God? Don’t fool yourself. Those who indulge in sexual sin- those who do not know God and those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. These will pay the penalty of eternal destruction-”

Isak feels sick.

“Mom?” he tries, but she keeps on reciting verses, words jumbling together.

He pushes past her and hurries to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Then he digs out his tangled headphones from his backpack and plugs them to his iPhone, blasting N.W.A. to drown out his mother’s words repeating inside his head.

“ _Those who do wrong, those who indulge in sexual sin, those who do not obey the gospel._ ”

He calms down a little after a few tracks and eventually hits _pause_.

The house has gone blissfully quiet. He softly pads out and finds his mom asleep on the couch again. He scans the room for pill bottles and wine bottles but doesn’t find any. Keeping his socked footsteps as quiet as possible, he makes his way to the couch, and squats down next to her, listening to her regular breaths and then he covers her with a blanket and goes to bed.

∙

When he wakes up the next morning, he feels tired and worn out. He debates staying home from school, but the thought of a whole day holed up with his mom makes his stomach drop, so he forces himself up and into the shower.

He gets dressed quickly and bypasses breakfast.

As he shrugs into his jacket and puts on his backpack in the corridor, he calls out a “bye, mamma.”

No response.

When he peeks into the living room, his mother is still asleep on the couch.

∙

He takes the tram to school and meets Jonas in the school yard.

“Hey, man.” Jonas says, clapping his hand, “is your mom doing better?”

“Yeah, a bit.” He lies, because he can’t tell him about last night. The things she said to him. _At him_.

“That’s good, Isak.” Jonas says, and then the bell rings. “What’s your first class? I got Spanish.” He says.

“Uh, science.” Isak replies and Jonas nods. “See you later.”

They split ways outside the building, and Isak heads to building A, making his way to the science lab and plopping down in a seat next to Sana.

∙

He’s so tired he can’t focus for shit during class, and only looks up when the class finishes with the teacher putting down his and Sana’s global warming paper on the desk in front of them with a “good work, Isak and Sana.” The highest grade, _6_ , is written in red marker on the last page of the report.

“Thanks.” Sana says to the teacher, and Isak merely nods.

Then the teacher moves on to the next students, and Sana turns her head to look at him.

“So, are you up for being partners again? For the next assignment?” she says.

“Huh?” he says back dumbly, and Sana rolls her eyes slightly. “The nitrogen cycle-assignment due next week?”

He just stares at her.

“Did you not pay _any_ attention in class, or?” she says sarcastically, and Isak just shrugs.

She lifts her eyebrows at him.

“Okayy…Well, we have a new 5-page pair-assignment on the nitrogen cycle due next week. Do you want to be partners again, or?” she says, somewhat impatiently.

Isak clears his throat.  
“Sure. Yeah.”

“Okay.” Sana nods. “My place, this afternoon?”

“Okay.” Isak agrees, and with a last curt nod, Sana stands up and makes her way to the door. 

∙

At 15:15 Isak is buzzing Sana’s door and then makes his way up the stairs.

“Hey.” Sana greets him at the door, and he toes out of his sneakers and hangs up his jacket in the corridor. There’s a chorus of loud voices from somewhere in the apartment, and he notices there are even more pairs of trashed guys sneakers strewn over the floor, than the last time he was here.

“Elias has friends over…” Sana says in explanation to the loud voices coming from the apartment and Isak nods.

“I was just making a cup of tea; do you want one?” She asks.

“Sure. Thanks.” Isak says and follows Sana through the corridor heading for the kitchen. When he passes the open door to the living room, Elias’ loud voice floats through. 

“Eyyyyyyyyy! Isak!” he exclaims enthusiastically.

Isak peeks inside, and there is Elias with Even and Mikael, as well as three other guys, Isak vaguely recognizes from when he checked out Elias’ Facebook profile last week to scout for pics of Even.

All six guys are spread out in two couches, a couple of laptops open and Dr. Dre streaming from a wireless speaker on the coffee table.

“Uh. Hey.” Isak lifts his hand in an awkward wave, for a split-second meeting Even’s eyes, but his smile seems almost too pretty, too radiant.

Isak doesn’t know if he feels lucky or supremely unlucky for meeting him again. And today of all days.

“Isak here saved our asses last week, when Ev, Mik and I had to hand in a physics report, and we didn’t understand jack shit.” Elias says in explanation to the other guys, and then Sana brushes past him with two mugs of tea and Isak gives a quick wave at the guys and follows Sana to her room. He hears the guys discussing behind him.

“Why the fuck didn’t you just choose something _easy_? Who the fuck chooses _physics_ as an elective?”

“I know, man. Don’t know what I’ll do for the exam…”

“You should get a tutor or something, bro.”

Isak recognizes Even’s and Elias’ voices, but he keeps walking, following Sana to her room.

∙

Working on the nitrogen cycle-assignment goes a lot slower and a lot less efficiently than last time they worked together. Isak doesn’t know anything about the nitrogen cycle, and it shows. Sana gives him ten minutes to skim the chapter and the schematic models to catch up, and he tries his best.

“Are you okay? You look kinda pale.” She asks, when he’s been over the same sentence in the textbook three times.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Just a cold or something.”

“Okay.” She says, looking at him for a couple of seconds more before turning back to her laptop.

They work side by side for a little while, then Sana turns to look at him again.

“Do you want to stay over for dinner? We can continue working after dinner?”

“Uh. Sure. Thanks.” He manages.

The thought that she’s inviting him out of pity, because he looks like _shit_ , strikes him, but he can’t bring himself to care. Eating dinner at Sana’s, even out of pity, is still about 1000 times better than sitting at home with his mother right now.

∙

Sana’s parents smile at him, when he sits down next to Sana at the dinner table, across from Even, Elias and the rest of their friend group.

“Nice to see you again, Isak.” Sana’s mom says, and Isak tries his best for a smile in return.

“You too. Thank you for letting me stay for dinner again.”

“You’re always welcome here.” She smiles, “…as you can see, we already have five more or less permanent house guests.” She nods her head at the five guys sitting around the table, and Isak quirks a crooked smile. 

“Thank you.” He says gratefully, and she just smiles at him and passes him a large, steaming casserole.

When he passes the casserole to his left and glances up, Even meets his eyes, and Isak can’t help wondering if he notices the bags under his eyes, if _my dad left and my mom is crazy_ is written all over him. He looks like shit. Feels like it too. Perhaps even more so, when he starts to think about _why_ he even cares about what Even thinks about how he looks.

So, he tries to shake his spiraling thoughts and concentrate on eating his food; a spicy casserole with chicken and little pieces of olives. The olives are bitter to his taste buds though, so he discreetly sorts them to the side, leaving them uneaten in a corner of his plate. When he glances up, he catches Even looking at him again with a soft smile on his lips. And Isak can’t help it; he lets himself think about those lips for a millisecond too long and then feels an instant flush creeping up his cheeks. He drops his eyes to the food on his plate, and shovels another forkful into his mouth, silently praising Sana’s mom for making spicy food, heavy on the chili.

∙

After dinner, he follows Sana back to her room, and they actually make some headway with the assignment and eventually decide to call it a night around 10:30 pm.

“Okay, then you’ll write the introductory paragraph and I’ll finish the concluding paragraph. Agreed?” Sana asks, and Isak nods. “Deal.”

“Okay.” She says. “...Deadline Thursday evening. Send it to me when you’re done, and I’ll paste the paragraphs into the document.” She says all-business and he gives her a little salute.

“Sir, yes sir.”

“ _Miss._ ” She corrects him with a smirk, and he sends her a crooked smile back. “Of course.”

Then he shrugs into his hoodie and jacket and puts on his sneakers.

“Bye, Sana.”

“Bye, Isak.” She smiles and he hoists on his backpack and closes the door to the apartment behind him.

∙

He pulls his phone out from his jacket pocket as soon as he hits the pavement outside the door to Sana’s apartment building. With cold fingers he unlocks his phone and sends Jonas a text.

* * *

**Jonas**

22:37

Hey bro, I know it’s kinda late, but can I crash at your place?

* * *

He does a few little jumps on the spot to keep warm as he waits for a reply.

* * *

**Jonas**

22:37

Sure, no problem, Issy. Text me when you’re here, fam has gone to bed.

Thx bro

* * *

He breathes a sigh of relief, and then he hears the door open behind him.

 _Even_. Of course.

“Hey.” Even smiles at him.

“Hey.” He says back, giving him a curt nod, going for nonchalant.

There’s a moment of silence between them.

“Bike?” Even then smiles with a ridiculous, but charming, eyebrow raise and Isak for a moment considers if Even actually caught his lie last week, when he claimed to have his bike with him, just to avoid riding the tram with him.

“Uh, no, tram today.” 

“Okay.” Even smiles and starts walking a couple of steps backwards, eyes still on Isak. “…Grefsen, right?”

Isak feels a stab in his chest.

“Uh, yeah. Or... I’m not going home, actually.” He says, starting to walk, falling into step next to Even.

“Oh, okay.” Even nods. “Girlfriend?”

“Uh, no. Just. Staying over at a friend’s house.” Isak says, pulling the hood of his hoodie over his hair.

Even casts a side-glance at him. “Okay. Which way are you heading then?”

“Disen.”

“Really? Me too.” Even smiles.

“I thought you lived in Bjølsen?” Isak asks, then for a moment panicks about the possibility that Even maybe finds it weird, that he remembers where he lives.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, just smiles “I do. But my girlfriend lives in Disen, so.” He sends him another smile, and Isak nods.

“Okay.”

 _Of course he has a girlfriend._ He thinks, for a moment feeling irrationally bitter at himself for not having a girlfriend. For not _wanting_ one.

They walk in silence for a few moments, until Even clears his throat.

“Thank you so much for your help last week. We actually got a 5 on our physics report. First time that’s ever happened.” He smiles.

“Oh. Cool.” Isak says, feeling the cold seep in everywhere.

Even nods and they continue walking; the sound of snow squeaking under their sneakers the only sound breaking the silence.

They finally make it to the tram stop and Isak follows Even into the first tram, that arrives. Even plops down in a seat and Isak takes the one across from him, mindful not to knock his knees into Even’s.

The tram starts with a rumble, and Isak leans back in his seat, feeling bone-tired. But at least he’s finally getting some warmth into his bones, so he zips down his jacket, letting his head fall back against the head rest.

“Nice hoodie. You like Wu-Tang?”

Isak lifts his head back up to see Even smiling at him.

He casts a quick look down at himself, at the grey Wu-Tang hoodie he borrowed from Jonas sometime last month and hasn’t bothered returning yet.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool. Me too.” Even smiles. “I actually have that same hoodie, but in black.”

“Oh yeah?” Isak says and Even nods, and Isak doesn't feel like telling him, that it’s actually not his hoodie, but Jonas’.

“What else do you like? Music, I mean.” Even smiles, and Isak’s heart skips a beat.

“Uh… old-school stuff mostly. N.W.A., Public Enemy…”

“Yeah? Cool.” Even smiles. “…what about Nas?”

“Nas?” Isak asks.

“You don’t know him?” Even smiles, doing that ridiculous eyebrow raise, that would probably look uncool on anybody else, again.

“No.” Isak admits.

“Check out his album Illmatic. I think you’ll like it. It’s very old-school.” Even smiles and Isak takes his phone up, opening Spotify.

“Ill…?”

“Illmatic.” Even says, and Isak types in the title, finding the album and saving it under ‘liked songs’.

“There. Found it.”

“Cool.” Even smiles.

They continue riding the tram for a few minutes in silence, Isak trying not to meet Even’s eyes, because it’s somehow too much, too intense.

When the metallic voice of the speaker announces “next stop: Disen”, Even stands up.

“So, this is my stop.” 

“Right. Mine too.” Isak says and gets up as well, grabbing onto the same pole as Even, as the tram swerves to the right. He almost crashes into him, but manages to right himself and stand up straight.

Finally the tram comes to a stop and they both step out into the freezing winter air.

“So, left or right?” Even smiles, nodding his head to indicate the direction.

“Uh, left.” Isak says.

“I’m right.” Even smiles and takes a couple of steps backwards. “…See you around, Isak.” He smiles, and then he turns around.

Isak looks at Even’s back for a moment, listening to the sound of the snow squeaking under his shoes as he walks away.

Then he turns left and walks quickly towards Jonas’ house.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it up, with slightly shaking hands.

* * *

**Mom**

22:53

..And that is what some of you were. BUT YOU WERE WASHED YOU WERE SANCTIFIED YOU WERE JUSTIFIED IN THE NAME OF THE LORD JESUS CHRIST and by the Spirit of our God

Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and heed the things which ARE WRITTEN IN IT FOR THE TIME IS NEAR

* * *

Isak pockets his phone with a heavy sigh, and trudges through the snow, heading for Jonas’ house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me about a month ago: I'm just gonna write a cute, young!Isak summer fic, no angst.......... lol.


	3. Easy Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Lying, a shitty December, parties, vodka shots, a dare, skater!Mikael, weed and a proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter took f o r e v e r to write. Sorry! Chapter title is from the Action Bronson song Easy Rider.
> 
> Note that this chapter includes some (edited) canon scenes from Season 1 because I wanted to include some of Isak's feelings about all the shit that went down in the fall/winter 2015-16. 
> 
> tw: excessive drinking, homophobia.

Isak ends up spending a couple of nights at Jonas’ house because he can’t go home. Not when his mom keeps texting him weird stuff – bible quotes about _the infidels_ and _the apocalypse_ and _the sinners_. He feels guilty for not wanting to be there for her, to take care of her, but he just can’t. Because even though she’s clearly out of it, Isak knows that she knows about him.

He spends the first night at Jonas’ house awake in the dark wondering how the fuck she knows. Could she have been looking at the browser history on his phone? The thought of her discovering his porn habits makes him flush in shame. He doesn’t remember ever leaving his phone lying around the house though, and he never told her his passcode.

Maybe she can tell just by looking at him? Maybe it’s some sort of mom intuition, like when he used to get angry or sad as a kid, and she always knew what was eating at him. Or maybe everybody can see it on him.

Either way, he’s almost 100 percent sure she _knows_ , and he can’t stand the way she looks at him, or the fucking bible verses basically telling him he’ll burn in hell for his sins.

So, he hides at Jonas’ until that too gets too much; his feelings are all over the place and he doesn’t understand them at all. Jonas and Eva are on a break since Jonas found out about Eva kissing Penetrator-Chris, and Isak finally has Jonas all to himself. And he’s honestly not sure if he’s crushing on him, or he just appreciates having a friend who’s there for him when everything else is shit, letting him crash on an air mattress next to his bed, gracefully not asking too many questions, when Isak starts silently sobbing late at night.

Sometimes when they’re gaming FIFA or Call of Duty, he thinks about what it would be like to kiss him.

So, probably it’s a little bit more than just friendly appreciation after all.

∙

After spending a few, mostly sleepless, nights in Jonas’ room, Isak goes home and spends way too long in the shower under scaldingly hot water, then cooks up a batch of spaghetti and leaves some in the fridge for his mom, who’s sleeping on the couch. He covers her with a woolen plaid and then goes to his room, turning on his PlayStation and settling in for a long night of gaming.

∙

The week drags on, and he skips school a couple of days, opting to stay in his room gaming or watching Netflix.

Friday he’s at school though, and during a particularly boring Norwegian class Magnus convinces him to go to a party at Iben from 2STB, and a few hours later, Isak finds himself pre-gaming with Magnus and a few other guys. When they get to the party, Isak barely gets to take off his jacket and put his beers in the fridge before Eva corners him in the kitchen. She tells him, she heard about his dad leaving, and asks if he’s alright. He opens a can of beer in lieu of answering and takes a sip before replying “ _now_ I am.” with a little wink.

Beer helps a bit. Makes it easier to forget the whole shit show, which is his life right now. 

“I’m sure my mom and dad will figure it out.” He lies, omitting that the real reason his dad left is that his mom is batshit crazy, has been for some time now, and nobody; not his dad, not his sister, and not himself can stand living with her anymore.

Eva accepts his explanation, and if she doubts anything he tells her about the situation with his mom and dad, she doesn’t show it. 

But then she changes the subject and tells him that she’s back together with Jonas, and Isak immediately feels his heart drop.

“Oh yeah? Oh. Well. He hasn’t told me anything.” He manages. “…But, uh, that’s great. So great.”

“Yeah.” She says with a tight smile.

“So, uh, he forgave you and everything?” Isak asks, trying not to sound bitter and disappointed. But like, what did he even expect would come from trying to sabotage his best friend’s relationship?

“Yes.” She says simply, and Isak nods. “Great.”

Then she narrows her eyes and calls him out for fucking it up between her and Jonas, flat out asking him what the _fuck_ he was thinking when he outed her to the entire school and Jonas. And Isak has to think fast. Luckily, he’s good at that.

“Think.” He says, looking at her, holding his ground.

Eva just stares at him for a couple of seconds, then says, “what, are you... like, do you have-“ and for a moment Isak thinks his game is up. That Eva sees through him; that she _knows_ too. His heart rate is through the roof.

“Do you have feelings for me?” she finally says and Isak swallows.

“Like you didn’t already know.” He’s quick to reply, to play along.

She seems to believe him, believe that he’s into her and that’s why he fucked it up between her and Jonas. Out of jealousy. Well, at least she’s partly right. It was out of jealousy.

Noora then pops her head into the kitchen calling for Eva, and Isak watches her leave. For a moment he doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed that the play actually worked.

He gets drunk out of his mind that night.

∙

The rest of December means two things; mid-terms and parties.

He crams for his Norwegian mid-term with Jonas and Magnus, and for his science mid-term with Sana.

They allocate a whole Sunday for studying at her place, and as soon as Isak steps inside and closes the door to her apartment behind him, he’s automatically scanning for guys sneakers in the corridor and listening for loud voices coming from Elias’ room. But the floor is uncharacteristically neat, and the apartment is silent.

He doesn’t stay for dinner. Instead he goes home and shuts himself in his room with a bowl of cereal and Netflix.

∙

A few days later, at the Christmas tree party at school, Eva tells him, that she and Jonas broke up.

And he feels guilty, like the worst fucking friend in the world, but still a part of him is irrationally happy, ‘cuz at least now he’s not the only one, who’s alone and sad.

∙

Come mid-December he’s done with his mid-terms and despite walking around in a near-constant haze of sleeplessness, he does pretty well on them, easily acing his science mid-term and getting a 5 in Norwegian.

As soon as he’s done with mid-terms, he starts hitting up every party he hears of. He drinks too much, and smokes way too much. He even endures Jonas’ dickhead-friend Elias’ company just for the weed. Well, partly for the weed and partly because it seems to be a package deal; wherever Jonas goes, there Elias is too. And Isak feels jealous and petty for having to share his best friend, but he never says anything, just watches as Elias and Jonas joke around together, finishing each other’s goddamn sentences. 

∙

His dad comes home for Christmas, and so does his sister Lea, but it’s awkward; everyone pretending like everything is normal and that Isak didn’t just spend a month alone with his mom having a nervous breakdown or whatever the clinical expression is. The Christmas lights and music make him feel sick; reminding him of all the families having a good time, not being dysfunctional as fuck.

His mother seems to be doing a bit better, though, now that his dad is back. Still, Isak can’t help fearing for the day he leaves again. 

∙

He spends New Year’s with Jonas, and dickhead-Elias, at some random Elvebakken-party. Jonas knows a guy, Matheo, who’s a first-year there, and as soon as Jonas mentions _Elvebakken_ , Isak is in, tagging along for the party and the booze, half-expecting to see Even, Elias and Mikael there. They’re not though, and he guesses it was a long shot anyway, since Elvebakken is a huge school with over a thousand students. 

So, he stops looking for them and instead takes vodka shots with Jonas and some dude, Adrian, whom he vaguely recognizes from Nissen. He seems cool, wearing a black t-shirt with _Compton_ written across the chest, and a pair of worn-out Converse and Isak immediately likes him. After they’ve taken the first shot, Adrian pours up another round and smiles at Isak, when he brings the shot glass to his lips, tipping it back with a content sigh.

Adrian sticks around for a little while, confirming _yes, he goes to Nissen_ , and he hangs around the skatepark too. They do a few more shots, then Adrian challenges him and Jonas to a game of foosball. Isak gives it his all, and he and Jonas end up taking home a measly 1-goal victory over Adrian and his friend. Adrian gives them both a high-five and a “ _good game_ ”, smiling at Isak.

A little while later, after Adrian and his friend have moved on, and Isak is starting to feel plastered, Elias strolls by with a beer in his hand. He leans in close to Isak and tells him that Adrian is gay.

“...So, no wonder you two hit it off…” he whispers with a smirk, and Isak doesn’t think, just shoves him hard with a palm at his chest. “Shut the fuck up, I’m not gay.” he slurs, sending Elias reeling from the push; he stumbles back, seemingly surprised by the force of the shove. Isak secretly revels in that.

“What the fuck, Isak??” Jonas frowns in confusion, when Elias looks Isak up and down, curling his lips into a sneer before walking off.  
 _  
He knows, too. But Jonas doesn’t._

He takes a second to calm down, adrenaline still rushing through his body.

“Nothing. Whatever.” He then says to Jonas, as he looks at the metallic 2016 balloons hanging on the wall, and downs another shot of vodka, chasing it with a sip of beer. Honestly, he’s glad to see 2015 go.

Sometime later, several hours into January 1, he drunkenly trudges home through the dirty grey snow. He’d kinda hoped he’d be able to spend the night on the floor in Jonas’ room, but Jonas took off with a girl named Isabel, before he got to ask him, and it’s not like he can blame him anyway. Jonas is single now, thanks to him actually, and if he wants to bang random chicks, that’s his prerogative.

So, as he walks home, he thinks about how he basically broke up his two best friends for absolutely nothing; If it’s not Eva, then it’s going to be some other chick. There’s always going to be some girl. It’s never going to be _him_. 

He snorts a drunken, dry laugh at the irony of the girl’s name though; _Isabel_ , a female version of _Isak_.

Halfway home he stops to throw up in a bush, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his now-favorite Wu-Tang hoodie. Then he fumbles to pull up his headphones and plugs them to his iPhone, opening Spotify and clicks on _liked songs_. The first track off Illmatic starts streaming through his headphones, and for a moment he wonders where Even is, if he’s spending New Year’s with his girlfriend in Disen.

Probably. 

* * *

January is even bleaker than December, but at least there isn’t the whole Christmas-charade to endure. Lea goes back to Berlin the day after Christmas, and their dad takes off January 2 with a pathetic “I’m sorry, son.” before he closes the door behind him.

Predictably his mom breaks down again.

His aunt Kari shows up to take care of her for a few days, and Isak fleetingly wonders whether his parents even tried to patch it up. He doesn’t know, and anyway, how do you even patch things up, when one part is crazy? He doesn’t care at this point either. His dad is gone. Period. And his mom is back to being alternately sleeping and rambling, jumbled bible verses and all.

Isak carries on with school, gaming and partying and spends most nights on a sleeping mat at Jonas’ or Magnus’ or crashing on the couch or floor at whoever is hosting a party.

He teams up with Sana again for a biology report on reproduction, and they study at her place. Even isn’t there, though, and Isak wonders if the last time he saw him was actually the last.

∙

February drags along with more sludgy dirty snow, schoolwork and parties. Nothing extraordinary happens until a Saturday by the end of February.

It starts out as a regular Saturday night; he’s drunk at a trashy party somewhere in Grefsen. Jonas and Eva and some from the old gang from elementary school are there as well, all partying in a damp and smoky basement of someone’s house. No parents home.

At one point Eva starts talking about how everybody used to hook up back in 10th grade and then she turns to him and Jonas and casually asks “you guys kissed too, didn’t you?”

And for Isak there’s absolutely nothing casual about the thought of kissing his best friend; the guy who made him question his sexuality in the first place a few years ago. His heart starts racing at the thought of kissing Jonas, of kissing another guy.

But Jonas is chill, so chill. He just smiles at Eva, telling her _no, me and Isak never kissed_.

“Why not?” Eva asks.

“Because we’re not gay.” Isak says in a moment of panic.

Eva rolls her eyes at that and jokingly tells him that people who are sure of themselves, of their sexuality, have no problem making out with someone of the same sex for fun.

“So unless it’s because you guys are scared that you’re gay, like-“

“Yeah, we’re scared, Eva. _So_ scared.” Isak cuts her off aggressively, almost stumbling over the words, and he immediately feels like he’s given himself away. His heart starts pounding violently in his chest. 

Like always, Jonas is the one to smooth things over, telling her of course they’re not scared of being gay, they can totally make out, it’s not a problem.

And that’s when Eva dares them to kiss, and Isak has to swallow a few times. His heart has somehow migrated to his throat.

“What?!” he almost squeaks, and Jonas just shrugs casually, smiling back at him. And then Jonas leans in, and Isak is just about to kiss him, but Jonas pulls back with a snigger.

“Are you going to keep your eyes closed?”

“Huh? Fuck do I know. Are you?” Isak says, trying to play it off with a little shrug.

Jonas snorts a laugh, but then he leans forward again and they kiss. Start making out for a second actually. And the moment Isak feels Jonas’ tongue brush against his own, his heart skips a beat and then there’s an immediate pang of arousal, sending blood between his legs with impressive speed, especially considering how drunk he is. He indulges for a second and kisses Jonas back for the briefest of moments before he pulls back, cheeks flushed, heart in his throat, willing his body to calm the fuck down and not spring a full-on boner on him right now.

“So how was it? Good?” Eva laughs.

”So good. Isak is an amazing kisser.” Jonas casually jokes and Isak swallows drily, his cheeks flushed with equal parts arousal and shame.

When Eva looks over at him, he just shrugs and then pulls up his phone, pretending to be occupied by a new notification.

In that moment he hates Eva.

∙

About an hour later, when he’s had even more beers and vodka shots to _calm the fuck down_ , the pre-party is winding down, everyone looking for the next place to go.

He’s slumped down on a curb next to Jonas, feeling tired and drunk when Eva makes a joking remark about them being boyfriends.

“So… Are you guys doubting your sexuality now?” She jokes, and Isak bitterly thinks that he’s never been more sure.

“Ugh, shut up, Eva. Your dialect is giving me a fucking headache.” He says in a harsh tone, because he’s so sick of everything.

Both Eva and Jonas give him a strange look, so he apologizes, then leans forward, resting his face in his hands. He’s drunk. And tired. So tired.

Why can’t he just-

Then he spots Sara and Ingrid come out the front door and walk towards where he’s sitting with Jonas and Eva. He sits up straight, takes a look at Sara whom he dated for about a week last year, and decides _fuck it_. She smiles at him, and he turns it on, flirts with her, and within a minute they’re full on making out in the middle of the street. When he opens his eyes, he catches Eva looking at him with a light frown between her eyebrows.

He stops kissing Sara for a second to say “so, are we going to that party, or?” and then they’re on their way to some random party with him swinging a half-empty vodka bottle in one hand and holding on to Sara’s hand with the other.

∙

The next morning he wakes up in his own bed; two beeps from his phone in quick succession jolting him out of sleep. He curses himself for not putting his phone on silent last night, and stretches his arm out, fumbling for his phone.

Bleary eyes settle on the screen and he swallows drily, when he sees the messages are from Jonas.

* * *

**Jonas**

10:47

Yoooo

Skatepark today?

* * *

He lets out a low groan and quickly types a reply.

* * *

**Jonas**

Bro I’m so hungover

Haha

How long did you stick around after I left?

Dunno. Think I got home around 04

Okay. Hey what happened with Sara???

* * *

Isak closes his eyes for a second. Sara, right. He made out with her for most of the night, trying to forget the feeling of Jonas’ lips and tongue against his own. Stupid fucking Eva and her fucking dare.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face then picks up his phone again.

* * *

**Jonas**

She gave me a blowjob

For real?? At the party?

Yeah. In the bathroom.

Nice.

* * *

He lets his phone fall face down on his naked chest and flushes as the memories of last night come flooding back; Sara dropping to her knees in front of him in the small bathroom of whoever was hosting the party. It was his first blowjob, and it’d felt nothing like he thought it would; nothing like getting his dick sucked felt in his fantasies. First, it had taken him forever to get hard, and then forever to come, and he’d tried to play it off by claiming to be too drunk, which was only half a lie. He _had_ been really drunk. Drunk enough to let Sara go down on him, while he thought about how it had felt kissing a guy.

He'd thrown up twice in the bathroom after that. Luckily Sara had already left the bathroom by then. 

Then Jonas’ next text comes through, and he determinedly decides to try to forget last night.

* * *

**Jonas**

10:49

So, skatepark in an hour?

Ait. But you’re buying kebabs.

Haha deal Issy

* * *

45 minutes later, he puts on his jacket and a dark blue wool scarf and toes into his Nikes. Then he doubles back to his room and pulls out his skateboard from under his bed. On the way out he grabs a grey snapback off his desk and puts it on over his messy curls.

He walks back out to the front door, calling out a “bye, mamma.” and quietly slips out the door, closing it softly behind him.

He considers riding his board to the tram, but feels too hungover, so he carries it instead.

On the tram he leans back in his seat, pulls up his phone from his jeans pocket and watches a few basic skate trick tutorials on YouTube.

In the middle of a video, his phone beeps with a new message.

* * *

**Sara N**

11:56

Hi Isak ❤️  
Do you want to hang out today?

* * *

He stares at the message, vaguely remembering a drunken conversation with Sara last night. 

> _“If you were my boyfriend, I’d totally suck you off in the bathroom.”_
> 
> _“Yeah? Well, will you be my girlfriend then?”_

She had responded to his sass by dragging him to the bathroom and dropping to her knees.

He leans his tired head against the tram window and rubs a hand over his face, for a moment wondering if this means he actually has a girlfriend now. And like, what’s he supposed to do with that? 

Then he unlocks his phone and stares at her message for a few seconds before he texts her back.

* * *

**Sara N**

Sorry no can do today, hanging out in the skatepark.

* * *

He locks his phone and is about to slide it back into his pocket, when he changes his mind and opens the conversation again.

* * *

**Sara N**

What about tomorrow?

Love to. Btw my parents aren’t home ❤️

* * *

Isak feels his stomach clench uncomfortably.

∙

Fifteen minutes later, he’s walking up to the skatepark; quirking a smile when he sees Jonas soar through the air, a few guys cheering him on from the top of the bowl.

He spots douchebag-Elias there talking to some guys, and he slows his steps a bit, curtly nodding “hey.” at Elias as he walks by him, not bothering to pretend they’re friends. He’s seen him at a couple of parties since he shoved him at New Year’s, but things are still kinda awkward.

He makes it to the edge of the bowl, sets his board down and then plops down on the ground, legs hanging out over the ledge.

Jonas smiles when he sees him from the other side of the bowl, and then he makes his way over, riding up the wall and kicking off at the top.

“Hey, Issy.” Jonas smiles, clapping his hand and setting his board down.

“Hey.” He claps Jonas’ hand back, trying to ignore the vague fluttering in his chest.

He cranes his neck as Jonas walks past him a few meters over to a bench and picks up his backpack from underneath it. Then he draws up a half-liter bottle of Fanta and walks back over to him.

“Here.” Jonas smiles, handing him the Fanta-bottle. 

“Oi! For me?” Isak smiles, twisting the cap open.

Jonas smiles. “Yeah, I figured you needed it.”

Isak nods gratefully and lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip of blessedly cold and sugary soda.

“Thanks, bro.”

“Sure.” Jonas smiles, as Isak takes another sip from the bottle.

“So, you and Sara, huh?” he then says, giving Isak a crooked smile. “Are you guys together, or?”

“Uh. Yeah. I think so.” Isak says with a little shrug.

”But you didn’t go home with her?” Jonas asks, twisting open a bottle of Coke and taking a sip.  
  
“Nah. I was hella drunk.” Isak says.

“Okay.” Jonas nods, and Isak just stares ahead, not knowing what to say. He should probably show some form of enthusiasm, but he just can’t.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Jonas nods at Isak’s board. “Are you riding today?”

“Hmm? Uh, I dunno. Maybe.” Isak says absentmindedly, getting sidetracked as he spots something out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head a bit and sees two familiar figures on the far side of the bowl.

A guy in jeans and a faded black hoodie, locks of dark hair peeking out from the hood, is riding down the side of the bowl. When Isak looks closer, he can see that it’s Mikael. Even is at the top, cheering him on.

“What’s up, Iss?” Jonas asks him then, and Isak snaps his head back to look at Jonas.

“Uh. Nothing.”

“Okay.” Jonas smiles then nods at the bowl, “…I’m gonna…”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” Isak nods and takes another sip of Fanta before stretching his arms out behind him and leaning back on his hands to watch Jonas.

Jonas skating is always a _show_ ; he looks effortlessly cool as he rides up and down the walls of the bowl, soaring through the air doing tricks much cooler and more advanced than the YouTube tutorials Isak’s been watching. 

So, Isak leans back and watches him, eyes occasionally straying to the other side, where Mikael is still riding. He’s clearly not as pro as Jonas, but he’s decent. Much better than Isak is.

After a little while, Isak stands up stretching his frozen limbs. Standing up he has a better view at Mikael and Even, and he lets himself watch for a moment.

Then Even turns his head towards him and catches his eyes, and Isak for a second wonders, if Even could feel him looking, if he has a creepy sixth sense or something. Either way, Isak is too slow to avert his eyes, so he meets Even’s eyes with a nod and doesn’t miss the wide smile of recognition on Even’s lips.

A couple of minutes later, Even and Mikael make their way over to him. Even is wearing what looks like a thousand layers under a green jacket, the hood of a grey hoodie pulled up over a burgundy beanie. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are flushed slightly pink from the cold, and Isak can conclude, that he still looks just as good as when he last saw him, a couple of months ago, heading each their direction from the Disen tram stop. 

“Hey, Isak.” Even smiles.

Mikael also nods. ”Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Isak says back.

“You ride?” Mikael then asks, nodding at the board forgotten by his feet.

“Uh. Sometimes. Maybe not today though.” He says, and then Jonas rides up the side of the bowl, kicking his board up into his hand in a smooth motion when he reaches the ledge.

“Hey.” Jonas nods casually, as he sees Even and Mikael.

“Hey.” Mikael and Even say, and Isak doesn’t know how to introduce them, so he stays quiet.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Mikael speaks up, smiling at Jonas.

“I’ve seen you ride here a couple of times before. You’ve got some pretty dope tricks.”

“Yeah?” Jonas smiles back, “...Thanks, man.” Then he stretches his hand out, “I’m Jonas, by the way.”

“Mikael.”

They shake hands, and then Jonas stretches his hand out to Even.

“Jonas.”

“Even.”

Mikael smiles at Jonas. “So, any chance I can get you to show me that cool trick where you jump over the rail and jump back on the board on the other side?”

“The Hippie?” Jonas smiles back, “...where the board goes under the rail?”

“Yeah.” Mikael nods.

“Sure.” Jonas smiles proudly as he gets on his board and nods his head for Mikael to follow him over to a rail some ten meters away.

Isak watches them ride over to the rail, and he twists his torso and stretches his arms over his head for a moment, attempting to get blood circulating into his frozen limbs again before plopping down on a bench to watch them ride. Even wordlessly sits down next to him and they watch in silence together for about a minute.

“He’s really good.” Even then says, nodding his head at Jonas.

“Yeah. He is.”

There’s another moment of silence, and then Isak casts a tentative side-glance at Even.

“So, uh…” he clears his throat, “…I’ve been listening to that album, you recommended. Illmatic.”

Even turns his head to look at him. “Yeah?” he smiles, “…do you like it?”

“Mhmm.” Isak nods, looking over at Mikael and Jonas again, “…I do.”

Even nods, following his line of vision.

Isak looks at him out of the corner of his eye and doesn’t miss the soft smile on Even’s lips.

They watch for a few moments, then Even turns to look at him again.

“So um, weird question maybe, but would you ever consider being a tutor?”

Isak turns to face him then, lips tipping into an incredulous smile at the randomness of the question. “Uh, _what_?”

“Well uh, my physics mid-term was, uh… shit.” Even says while biting his lip.

“How bad?” Isak asks.

“2.”

“Wow.” Isak smirks, “that _is_ bad.”

“I know.” Even nods. “...At this point, I’m doubting I’ll even pass the exam in May.”

“Shit.” Isak deadpans.

“Yeah. And, the worst thing is, that Mikael and Elias are just as bad, so no help there.” Even says, lips tipping into a smile.

Isak chuckles at that. “Sorry, man.”

“I know.” Even smiles.

Isak looks out over the bowl in front of them, a few guys riding up and down the walls.

“So…” Even says, “...would you consider tutoring me? And maybe the other guys too.”

Isak looks back at Even, “I’m a first-year. I haven’t even covered your third-year stuff, yet.”

“I know. But you’re smart.” Even smiles, “…I bet _you_ aced your science mid-term.”

Isak cracks a smile at that, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “I did actually.”

“See!” Even smiles, waving his hand at Isak.

Isak smiles back, pulling a little _yeah whatever_ -shrug.

“I’d pay you of course...” Even then says, and Isak thinks for a second.

“Uh…” He doesn’t know what to answer, and he doesn’t get to either before Mikael and Jonas both make their way over on their boards.

“Think about it. No pressure.” Even says softly and then Mikael and Jonas join them, with Mikael quirking a smile at all of them. “Hey, you guys wanna smoke? Got some super mellow Indo.”

“Sure.” Jonas agrees easily, then turns to Isak, “…Issy?”

“Sure, okay.” Isak shrugs, “… _mellow_ sounds fucking good.”

Jonas snorts a laugh. “Still hungover even after the Fanta and everything?”

“Yeah.” Isak says, for a moment feeling slightly queasy as he thinks back to the night before.

“Wild party last night?” Even asks, his eyes locked on Isak’s, lifting his eyebrows teasingly.

“Yeah. Uh. Vodka.” Isak says in explanation, grimacing at the word _vodka_ and making Even chuckle.

“Yikes.” Even says.

“Yup.” He confirms.

“I still can’t believe Sara blew you in the bathroom…” Jonas says, sounding kinda impressed, “…you got some mad game, Iss.”

Isak catches Even looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s the hangover, or Even’s presence, but now he definitely feels queasy. He opts for a shrug and a half-hearted smirk, all fake bravado.

“...Sweet.” Mikael says distractedly as he rummages through his backpack, then pulls up a little ziplock bag of weed with a triumphant “...there we go.” He puts the bag in the pocket of his hoodie and nods his head at a little shelter behind the farthest bowl, “...behind the shed?”

They all agree and migrate to behind the little shed, and Mikael pulls up the bag of weed and starts rolling up.

He’s just about done rolling up, when douchebag-Elias emerges with a couple of friends in tow, a joint already hanging between his lips.

“Smoking up without me, guys?” He jokingly says, eyes trained on Isak and Jonas.

Isak just shrugs, but Jonas smiles. “Well, you’re here now, bro.”

Mikael and Even nod a quick “hey” at Elias, and then Mikael passes the weed and paper to Even, asking him to roll one up too, since they’re gonna be four or more to share.

“Sure.” Even smiles, expertly rolling a joint, then licking the paper to seal it. Isak looks, and then swallows, at the sight of Even’s pink tongue darting out to lick the paper; an unwelcome thought of how it would be like to kiss _him_ popping into his head.

Mikael then digs out a lighter from his jeans pocket, and lights up, taking a few drags before passing the joint to Jonas and the lighter to Even.

Even lights up too, and Isak’s eyes are drawn to him again. He watches as Even takes the first drag; focusing on that little indent in the middle of his bottom lip, the way his lips look so plush around the joint, cheeks hollowing as he inhales and. _Shit_.

Isak has to turn his head and look out over the ramps behind them to mentally shake his head.

When he turns back, Even is smiling at him, reaching the joint out to him. “You want?”

“Uh. Sure. Thanks.” he says back, fingers slightly brushing Even’s, as he plucks the joint from him.

He takes a drag, inhaling deeply and then repeats a couple of times before passing the joint back to Even. After a few minutes he starts to feel the effect of the weed and he zones out, as Jonas and Mikael start talking about the problems with a capitalistic and cynical weed industry, and how Mikael’s weed is actually _ethically sourced;_ apparently homegrown from some dude Mikael knows who lives on a farm just outside of Oslo. Douchebag-Elias interjects with “but, like, does it even matter where it comes from?” and Jonas and Mikael in unison say “uh, _yes_!”

Isak feels Even’s eyes on him, and when he meets them, Even raises his eyebrows with a conspiratorial smirk, jerking his head minutely at Mikael and Jonas. Isak quirks a smile, pulling a tiny shrug trying to wordlessly communicate _yeah_ _wow, our friends are basically the same person._ Even smiles back.

Mikael eventually manages to pause the interesting conversation about weed for a second to pull up his phone and a little portable speaker from his backpack and put on music. The sound of a droning guitar, deep bass and a lazy rap flow fills the tiny space between them. 

“What’s this?” Isak then asks, bobbing his head along to the chill beat.

“[Action Bronson](https://youtu.be/58RSC7HO9aU).” Even smiles and Mikael nods affirmatively.

“It’s good. I like it.” Isak says, still bobbing his head.

“Yeah well, it’s not _Illmatic_ , but…” Even gives him a teasing smile, and Isak rolls his eyes. He can’t help smiling, though.

“ _Ride the Harley into the sunset, ride the Harley into the sunset…_ ” Jonas raps along, clearly familiar with the lyrics and Mikael joins in.

Isak smiles and zones out again, for a moment getting lost in the chill flow of the song, the sound of the guitar.

He’s so high. But, like, _mellow_. He feels good.

So good in fact, that he for once feels like riding his board, wanting to match the chill feeling of the song.

So, he steps out from behind the shed and walks the five meters to the ledge of the bowl. He takes a moment to adjust his snapback, placing it back on his head facing backwards and then he rolls down the side of the bowl, kicking his foot to gain a bit of speed, when he reaches the bottom and then rolls up the opposite wall.

“Oiii! Trophy wife Isak rides!” Jonas laughs, and Elias says a sarcastic “wow, never thought I’d see the day…”

“ _Trophy wife_?” Isak faintly hears Even ask and Jonas replies “yeah, Isak almost never rides. He just watches and cheers. Looks pretty. A perfect skater-wifey.”

Isak hears the fond teasing in Jonas’ voice but he flips him off anyway, riding lazily up the side of the bowl, the word _pretty_ stuck in his head.

For a moment he wonders, if Jonas means it; if he thinks he’s pretty. Does _Even_?

Then he vaguely hears Elias say “gayyyyyyyyyyy”, covering it with a cough, trying to be funny.

“Wow, kinda dated don’t you think?”

Isak kicks off and looks up to see Even raising his eyebrows challengingly at Elias, while Jonas and Mikael just stare between them.

“What?” Elias says dumbly.

“To use the word ‘ _gay’_ like that. I mean, come on.” Even says cooly with a little shrug before taking another drag of the joint.

“Uh…” Elias says, clearly dumbstruck by Even talking back to him.

“True, bro.” Mikael says with a nod.

“Yeah, dude. Not cool.” Jonas agrees, and Isak can’t help a tiny smile spreading.

Not long after that Elias slinks off with his friends in tow.

∙

A few hours of skating, and a couple of joints later, Isak and Jonas clap Mikael’s and Even’s hand in goodbye. Even’s hand feels warm, and it kinda makes him want to hold onto it for a bit longer. He lets go though, and then grabs his board, walking out of the skatepark with Jonas.

As they head towards their usual kebab place, Jonas turns to look at him.

“How do you know Mikael and Even, anyway?”

”Uh, I don’t really _know_ them. They’re Sana’s brother’s friends…I’ve just met them a few times studying at Sana’s.” Isak says.

“Okay.” Jonas nods.

They keep walking in silence for a moment.

“They’re cool. I like them.” Jonas then says.

Isak looks over at Jonas, the corner of his lips tipping into a crooked smile.

“Yeah, me too.”

∙

When Isak gets home later, he brings a bowl of cereal to his room and powers up his laptop, settling down on his bed. He looks up Even’s Facebook profile again, scrolling through the few pictures available to him since they’re not friends on Facebook. 

He lets his finger hover over the _add friend_ button, but he opens another window instead, googling Even’s full name and clicking on a link to a video. He smiles to himself as he watches Mikael interview Even for some pretentious Bakka school project last year when they were second-years. It’s a film project, go figure, and Isak quirks a smile at the ludicrous plot of Even’s movie. It’s something about Captain America and Putin falling in love. Isak for a moment wonders why Even chose a love story between two guys, and why he told Elias off about using the word _gay_. For a second he lets himself entertain the idea, that maybe Even likes guys.  
But then again the whole premise of the movie sounds so crazy, that it probably doesn’t mean anything. And telling Elias off doesn’t necessarily mean anything either. Doesn’t mean Even is into dudes. Also, he has a girlfriend, so. 

He replays the video again and again, eyes trained on Even’s face, his eyes, his cheekbones, his lips.

The thought of how it would feel kissing him pops into his head again, and his heart starts racing. He can so easily picture Even’s lips, can even see that little indent in the middle. He swipes his tongue over his own bottom lip, as his imagination starts running wild, and he gets hard in no time.

Acknowledging that there’s no point trying to fight it, he flops down on his bed and shimmies his jeans down his hips, reaching his hand into his boxers.

Images of a tall and slim and definitely _male_ body kneeling in front of him, cheeks hollowed as plush lips settle around his dick, sucking him off, flash before his eyes, and he barely gets a hand around himself before he comes.

Afterwards he wipes his hand on the sheet and blows away a stray curl falling into his eyes. A beep from his laptop has him looking over at the screen, and he opens the Facebook window again.

_**New friend request from Even Bech Næsheim**._

What the fuck.

His heart skips a beat, when he reads the name, and he low key panics for a second; does Even know what he just did? That he got off thinking about him?

He slams the lid on his laptop shut and looks up at the ceiling, his heart pounding hard in his chest. 

It takes him a couple of minutes to calm down enough to rationally know that there’s no way, Even could know. He’s just being paranoid. Probably just an after-effect from Mikael’s weed. Probably just a weird coincidence, that Even sent him a friend request just now. Or. Maybe Even _does_ have a weird sixth sense about him? 

He opens his laptop back up with slightly shaky fingers and accepts the friend request before closing the window and the lid on his laptop.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not kidding using the slow-build tag 😬


	4. Gin and Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Straight!Isak (yikes), a royally stupid idea, gin and juice and banter.

Isak almost sleeps through his alarm the next morning, hitting snooze a couple of times before he finally groggily sits up with his phone in his hand. He opens Instagram first, and then Facebook, bleary eyes settling on the screen as he mindlessly scrolls down his feed. Then he remembers that he accepted a friend request from Even last night and now has full access to stalk his profile.

He quickly types in Even’s name in the search bar and is just about to navigate to his profile, when he notices the time in the top of his screen and jumps up with a “ _fuck!”._ If he doesn’t get a move on, right fucking _now_ , he’s going to be late for school, and he’s already close to hitting the 10% absence quota.

So, he hurries up, gets dressed in record time and practically tosses his laptop into his backpack. He’s out the door in ten minutes flat.

There’s a light drizzle of rain as he speed walks to the tram and then lets himself fall heavily into a seat, immediately pulling up his phone, opening Facebook and navigating to Even’s profile. He clicks through all his photos - including some of him and a very pretty, shorthaired blonde girl. “Sonja”, he can deduct from the tag on the photo.

 _Probably his girlfriend_ , he thinks as he studies one of the photos; Even and _Sonja_ are sitting on a couch at what looks like a pre-party. He notices how Even’s arm is slung around her waist, and how she leans into him.

 _Definitely his girlfriend_.

He almost misses his stop staring at Even’s pictures.

∙

During his first class of the day, Norwegian, the teacher talks on and on about fairytales and the genre’s stylistic characteristics, and Isak zones out because he fucking hates fairytales and couldn’t give a shit about their _stylistic characteristics_. Instead, he discreetly pulls his phone up under the desk, flipping it in his hand for a moment before he opens Even’s Facebook profile again, and clicks _write message_. He stares down at the screen, trying to compose a _cool_ message.

He guesses, he could write something about the tutoring thing, Even suggested yesterday at the skatepark. But, the thing is that he’s still kinda undecided on the whole thing. To tutor third-years in physics he’d have to read their curriculum, and he’s not sure he’s up for that. He’s sleepless and tired and lazy most of the time, and a big part of him just wants to chill, to coast along with a minimum of effort.

Even _did_ mention there’d be money in it for him, though. And he _could_ really use some money. Partying is so fucking expensive. Also, maybe it’d be chill to hang out with Even. And Mikael and Elias, too.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he thinks, letting his thumbs hover over the empty conversation.

Then the bell rings, signaling recess, and Isak gives up on the message and closes the still-empty conversation. He slides his phone back into his pocket and walks out into the school yard.

He spots Magnus and Jonas by a bench and walks up to them, clapping both their hands in greeting.

“Heyyy, what’s up, Issy?” Magnus smiles, as he claps his hand. “...Had a good weekend? I hear from Jonas that Sara gave you a blowjob at a party on Saturday?”

“Yeah.” Isak confirms.

“Fy faen, that’s so fucking unfair. Where was my invitation to that party?” Magnus sulks.

“Sorry, bro…” Isak smirks. “…It was a closed party. Sorta VIP.” He winks.

“Eyyy!” Jonas laughs and high-fives him and they transition into small talk about the party, then Jonas’ and Isak’s trip to the skatepark yesterday.

“…Damn, that guy Mikael had some _good_ weed…” Jonas says dreamily, “…I’m gonna add him on Facebook and ask him if he wants to sell to me…”

Isak quirks a smile at that. “Yeah, go for it, man.”

“Who’s Mikael?” Magnus asks obliviously, and then Sara and Ingrid walk up to them, with Sara cutting into their guy-talk with a smiley “hey, Isak.”

“Hey.” He says back, and when she smilingly asks him what time he’s done with classes, he suddenly remembers that _oh yeah, shit,_ he’s supposed to hang out with her today. He even suggested it himself yesterday, when she’d texted him on the way to the skatepark.

“Uh, 15:30. How about you?” he says.

“14:00.” she smiles.

He nods.

“So, will you come to mine when you’re done, then? I still live the same place. And my parents are in Copenhagen on a long weekend. Won’t be home until tomorrow.” She says flirtingly, making him swallow nervously at the implications of that.

“Okay, yeah. Sweet.” He nods, forcing himself to smile back.

She leans in then and kisses him, and it takes him a beat to start kissing her back, mindful of Jonas’ and Magnus’ eyes on him.

She finally pulls back with a “see you later...” and sends him a seductive smile before turning around, flipping her long hair over one shoulder and walking off with Ingrid in tow.

The girls are barely out of earshot before Magnus turns to look at him wide-eyed, looking kinda awestruck. “Oi, Isaaaak! Looks like you’re getting laid tonight, bro! I mean, she’s home alone, that’s code for banging, right?”

“I guess.” Isak says, for a moment envying Magnus’ blatant _straightness_.

“You’re so fucking lucky, man.” Magnus then says, and Isak thinks about the irony of that.

Jonas just gives him a semi-discreet fistbump and a “get it, Issy.” and Isak fakes a nonchalant smirk, hoping that Jonas and Magnus don’t see through him, that they don’t see how uninterested he is in losing his virginity to Sara.

He feels extremely grateful when the bell rings them back to class barely a minute later. 

∙

After his last class of the day, he drags himself to Sara’s house. It’s pretty close to where he lives, and he’s been there a few times before back in tenth grade, when they used to party together and even dated for about a week.

As he walks up the driveway to her house, he draws in a steadying breath and then comes to a stop before her front door, taking a second to try to psych himself.

 _It’s just sex. Whatever_. _Just get it over with._

He rolls his shoulders and buzzes the door.

Sara flings the door open in jeans and a crop top, pulling on his hand with a “come in!” and he lets her drag him to her room.

They tumble down on the bed, and she immediately starts making out with him, palming him over his jeans right away.

He low key panics at that; this is only the second time ever another person than himself has touched his dick, and the last time Sara touched him, a few days ago at the party, he had a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. Doing this completely sober kinda freaks him out. So, he tries to subtly pry her hand off with a smile. “heyyyy…”

“What?” she asks him and goes back to kissing him, “don’t you want to….” She says between kisses, and Isak’s brain is working overtime trying to come up with an excuse for not having sex, because _actually_ _no, he really doesn’t want to. Doesn’t even want to just get it over with._ He’s not sure, he can even get hard.

“Uh… it’s just…uh. I forgot the condoms.” He finally says, hoping for the chance that she doesn’t have condoms either.

“Oh. Okay. I thought you were gonna bring some…” She says, clearly disappointed, and Isak immediately feels a bout of relief.

It’s short-lived though, because then she grabs his hand and guides it down her pink lace panties with a “finger me, then? I’ll give you a blowjob afterwards.”, and Isak nervously swallows, when he feels her _there_. She’s so wet, and from what he’s heard from the guytalk at pre-parties, and, like, porn, he guesses that’s a good thing, but he’s just so… far from turned on. He doesn’t know what to do, he’s still struggling to even get hard and touching Sara obviously isn’t doing it for him. So, he closes his eyes for a second and lets his imagination run wild; trying to pull up images from his extensive mental porn collection. He keeps getting distracted by Sara’s mewling though, and her long hair and girly, sweet perfume and lace-covered breasts, are not helping. 

She tries to guide his hand, and he lets her do it for a few minutes. Occasionally she lets out these high-pitched moans, and then she grabs his other hand, placing it on her left boob, and yeah, that’s _definitely_ not helping.

When she flirtingly opens his jeans and palms him over his boxers, and finds out he’s almost completely flaccid, she pulls back with a little frown.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?” She asks, slightly out of breath, and Isak again has to think fast.

“Yeah. I’m just… I think I’m coming down with a cold…” he forces out a little cough.

“Oh.” She says, looking at him for a second, and then she scoots back a little, making him awkwardly pull up his hand from her panties.

She sits up, buttoning up her jeans and pulling on her crop top.

He discreetly wipes his fingers on the duvet, then buttons up his own jeans.

“Sorry.” He says, and it sounds hollow even to his own ears.

She sits cross-legged across from him and looks at him.

“I heard that your dad left your mom.”

He looks up at her. “Yeah. Sucks.”

“Are you… like, are you okay?” she asks, and Isak plays along.

“Yeah, or, I mean…It’s pretty fucked.” He shrugs.

“I totally get that…” she says, and they end up talking for a bit about Isak’s dad leaving, and Lea who’s in Berlin.

He doesn’t disclose the full extent of the clusterfuck, which is his family situation right now, though. Doesn’t tell her, that his mom is _crazy_ and definitely doesn’t tell her how she keeps reciting hateful, homophobic bible verses at him.

Sara comforts him about his dad leaving and seems to believe that’s what’s eating at him.

And when she suggests that they just watch a movie, Isak feels so relieved, that he lets her pick some terrible chick flick, awkwardly putting his arm around her as they settle down on her bed and turn on the tv.

∙

The next week they hang out a few times at her house; she obviously still wants to have sex with him, and he has to come up with a new excuse for not having sex every time she initiates something.

After the third failed attempt they end up mostly texting; mostly Sara gossiping about other girls from school. And Isak lets her vent, occasionally throwing in a burn or two about some of the other first-year girls.

He wonders how long he can keep her at bay. For the moment she seems content with texting and kissing once in a while in the school yard, so, for now it’s alright. But he guesses she’ll start questioning him, and why he doesn’t want to have sex with her, soon enough.

* * *

She breaks up with him, over text, a week later, telling him that she’s sorry for his fucked up situation at home, and she totally understands that he’s feeling down, but still, she kinda wants _more_ from their relationship. 

He texts her back a lame “ _sorry”_.

At least now he won’t have to spend time with her or listen to her bitch about other girls and best of all; he won’t have to keep coming up with progressively creative excuses to evade fucking her. He just hopes she won’t tell the whole school about how they didn’t even have sex because he couldn’t get it up…

∙

He tells Magnus and Jonas about the break-up the next day during lunch recess, obviously leaving out the real reason for why she broke up with him.

“Sorry, man.” Magnus says, empathetically clapping his back.

“You okay?” Jonas asks and he nods with a shrug. “Yeah.”

He wonders how long he has to keep up the heartbroken charade, but luckily Magnus saves him.

“Dude, we should go to that Bakka-party tomorrow… you can a find a new chick to hook up with. Rebound, baby!” He says enthusiastically.

“What Bakka-party?” Isak squints, ignoring the whole rebound thing.

“Some third-years at Elvebakken are having this huge bus-party…” Magnus says, pulling up his phone and unlocking it. “Here… I’ll send you the Facebook invite…”

“Okay.” Isak says, pulling up his own phone, as it vibrates in his jeans pocket. He opens the message from Magnus and then the invite, scrolling down the list of 200+ people attending.

**_Even Bech Næsheim attending._ **

He stops scrolling when he sees Even’s name, quickly clicks ‘attending’, locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket.

“So, are we going? There’s a 50 kroner entrance fee, but I think it’ll be worth it. The party is gonna be packed with chicks.” Magnus says.

“We’re going.” Isak confirms.

“If you front me the money, I’m in.” Jonas shrugs, and Isak pulls his phone up and checks his balance; still about 300 kroner left for the month.

”Sure, bro, I’ll front you the money.” he says and Jonas smiles a “thanks, man.” in reply.

“Sweet! Can’t wait!” Magnus exclaims happily.

“…Just don’t fool yourself, that you’ll have any luck with third-year chicks, Magnus.” Isak sasses.

Jonas snorts a laugh at that.

“Ugh, shut up, Isak.” Magnus groans, making Isak laugh, too.

“What about Isabel…” Magnus bounces back, jerking his head at Jonas. “…she’s a third-year, right…? And Jonas is fucking her...”

“Yeah, but I think you’re forgetting something, Mags…” Isak says solemnly.

“What?” Magnus asks, hair flopping down over his forehead.

“That Jonas actually has game.”

∙

Later that day, when he’s done with classes, Jonas texts him if he wants to come over. Hang out. Have a few beers.

He texts him back a thumbs up, and then takes the tram to Jonas’ place.

They crack open a six-pack as soon as he steps inside Jonas’ room, and then Jonas grabs his backpack from his desk and triumphantly pulls up a little bag with four pre-rolled joints.

“Wanna smoke? It’s that good shit from Mikael...” he smiles.

“Bakka-Mikael?” Isak asks, as he slides down on the floor next to Jonas’ bed.

“Yup. I hit the skatepark after school, and I met him there. Said I was hanging out with you tonight, and he gave me these. Free of charge.”

“Oi. Nice.” Isak says approvingly, refraining from asking about Even, if he was there or not.

He leans back against the bed as Jonas plops down beside him and lights up. As he watches the flame flare up when Jonas inhales, he secretly appreciates how Jonas has seemingly switched douchebag-Elias out with Mikael when it comes to weed. He kinda hopes, that he has finally realized that Elias is a massive fucking douchebag.

Jonas then passes him the joint, and Isak takes a couple of drags while Jonas opens his laptop and puts on a playlist consisting mostly of old-school hip-hop.

They talk for a bit, passing the joint between them, before launching into a couple games of Call of Duty, and then they bust out a few more beers and joints, alternating between gaming and talking about school, music and girls. 

∙

Around 10pm, after Jonas has been pulling his phone up from his pocket to text on-off for a good hour, he turns and looks at Isak.

“How do you feel about going to a party?”

“Now?” Isak asks, pausing the game of FIFA, they’re currently playing.

“Yeah.”

“Sure.” Isak replies with a shrug, “…where?”

“Downtown.” Jonas says, eyes on his iPhone screen, thumbs flying over the screen to write a text.

“Okay.” Isak nods. “I’m down.”

“Yeah?” Jonas says, standing up, eyes still on his phone, “…let’s split then.”

Isak quirks a crooked smile at Jonas’ enthusiasm and stands up as well.

They head to the kitchen to grab another 6-pack of Tuborg in the fridge, and Jonas yells a “we’re going to a party. Don’t wait up.” to his parents in the adjacent living room.

“Have fun, boys.” Jonas’ dad answers and they both call out a “thanks.” in reply. Then they pack the 6-pack of beer in Jonas’ backpack and make their way to the corridor. 

“How did you get here? Bike?” Jonas asks, as he pulls on a beanie and toes into his Vans.

“Nope. Tram.” Isak answers, shrugging into his hoodie and jacket and then bending down, feeling slightly tipsy as he ties his Nikes.

“Okay.” Jonas nods, then looks at him with a smile. “Wanna skate? You can borrow a board...”

“Yeah, fuck it. Let’s do it.” Isak pulls a smiley shrug.

Jonas splits into a wide smile. “Awesome. Let’s go.”

He grabs a couple of boards from a corner of the corridor and then they’re out the door.

∙

They make it about halfway on their boards, then decide to take the tram for the remainder of the trip with Isak bitching about downtown being so far awayyyy.

“Why the fuck are we even going to Barcode, anyway?” Isak whines, leaning back in the tram seat, “…isn’t it just gonna be some rich kid party?”

Jonas just shrugs with a smirk, pulling up two cans of beer from his backpack, handing one to Isak, and cracking open his own beer loudly.

“Oh, shit, now I know. It’s some chick, right?” Isak asks, pulling open the ring-pull on his own beer and taking a sip.

“Maybe.” Jonas smiles, and Isak leans his head back with a grin, “duuuuude.” Then he snaps his head back up to look at Jonas, and everything starts spinning. _Okay shit yeah,_ he’s pretty drunk. Probably shouldn’t have smoked that last blunt, either.

“What’s her name?”

“It’s uh, Isabel.”

“ _Isabel_ invited you to a party in Barcode??” Isak asks incredulously, “I didn’t know she was rich.” The idea of Jonas seeing an upper-class chick doesn’t compute. It’s so not his... thing.

“She’s not _rich_. She just knows someone who lives at Barcode.” Jonas shrugs almost apologetically, and Isak backs down, nodding an “okay. Cool.” with a smile.

∙

When they get off the tram and head towards the high-rise buildings of Barcode, Jonas pulls up his phone and puts on _Easy Rider_ , turning the volume all the way up and they both pull open another beer to get hyped for the party.

And then Isak gets a brilliant idea.

“Broooo, you know what would be really cool?” He smiles drunkenly.

“No, what?” Jonas smiles back.

Isak nods at the roof of the Opera House some hundred meters down the street, “to skate down the roof of the Opera House...” he looks over at Jonas with a challenging smirk.

“Huh?” Jonas snorts a laugh at him, “…are you for real right now? Where did that come from??”

And Isak honestly doesn’t know how he got the idea, so he just shrugs, smirking at Jonas. “…What, you don’t think you can do it?” he says, all booze-induced bravado

”No, I think, _I_ can do it…it’s you I’m worried about.” Jonas smirks back, and Isak arches an eyebrow at him. ”You don’t think _I_ can do it?”

”No.” Jonas smiles.

”Fuck it.” Isak says determinedly and gets on his board, riding down the pavement heading for the Opera House.

He hears the smack of Jonas’ board hit the pavement behind him, and then Jonas comes up beside him, picking up speed to race him.

∙

For a moment, Isak is _flying_. The sound of the board’s wheels on the ground is so loud in his ears, it drowns everything out. He feels free.

The next thing he hears is a weird screech and then he’s tumbling off the board, hitting the ground hard. 

He vaguely hears Jonas’ “ _Isak_???? Are you okay?” somewhere behind him. 

Then Jonas is there by his side with a hand on his back while he screams out in pain, cradling his wrist against his chest.

“Shit, Issy, is it bad?” Jonas asks, trying to assess the situation, but they’re both drunk as fuck. Isak takes a look at his wrist and then on the ground beneath him, and at least there’s no blood. Well, a little bit from a couple of scrapes on his arms and hands, but nothing too bad. Still, his arm hurts _a lot._

“I don’t know.” he chokes out, starting to hyperventilate a bit, “…my arm hurts like shit.” He tries to wiggle his fingers but is hit with another sharp pain, making him cry out again.

“Okay. Okay.” Jonas says going into action-mode; he stands up and quickly fastens both boards to his backpack. Next, he helps Isak up with a soft “come on.”

“Where are we going?” Isak asks, wincing as he slowly stands up.

“Emergency room.”

“But what about the party? And Isabel?” Isak asks, as they gingerly start walking down the slope.

“Fuck it. You’re my bro, Issy.” Jonas says plainly, and Isak hangs his head low and tries to focus on the blurry pavement.

“Thanks.” He sniffs quietly.

“Of course.”

∙

After spending two long hours waiting at the emergency room, the doctor finally gets to Isak. He looks young for a doctor, probably in his mid-twenties, tall and kinda good-looking and Isak lets him check him for a concussion and then take x-rays of his arms. There are no signs of a concussion, but when the x-ray comes back, it’s clear that he has a fracture in his right wrist and a smaller fracture in his right elbow. He gets a cast on his wrist and a sling for his elbow, and both he and Jonas get a lecture from the young doctor on not to drink too much, don’t smoke weed and _definitely don’t skate drunk and/or high, guys!_

By 2 am they’re finally out of there and slowly make their way to the tram.

“Sorry for uh. Tonight.” Isak says quietly, cradling his now casted wrist in a sling inside his zipped-down hoodie.

“No worries, man.” Jonas yawns and they walk to the tram side by side in silence.

The wait in silence for the tram to arrive, and when they finally board it, Isak pulls his hood up and leans against the windowpane, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You can just chill, Iss. I’ll let you know when it’s time to get out.” Jonas says softly, and Isak gives him a grateful smile and falls asleep against the window.

∙

When he wakes up on an air mattress next to Jonas’ bed the next morning, he’s hungover and his wrist still hurts like _shit_ , and he accidentally wakes Jonas up, when he gingerly sits up with an “ow, ow, ow, _fuck_.”

“Mornin’” Jonas says groggily, running a hand through his dark curls. Then he seems to remember what happened last night and looks over at Isak.

“How are you feeling, Is?”

“Ugh…” Isak groans, “…the hangover is bad, but my wrist is fucking killing me…”

“Yeah, I can imagine…” Jonas says and lazily stands up, pulling on a pair of sweats over the morning wood tenting his boxers.

Isak averts his eyes and fumbles for his jeans discarded on the floor next to him.

“Breakfast? I’m so fucking hungry…” Jonas says, popping his head through the crewneck of his t-shirt. 

“Sure.” Isak agrees and carefully stands up, awkwardly putting on his jeans and t-shirt, while trying to move his right arm as little as possible.

∙

After breakfast and a bit of questioning from Jonas’ mom as she rummages in a kitchen cabinet for ibuprofen to give to him, they retreat to Jonas’ room to chill.

PlayStation is a no-go with only one hand, though. So, they watch a bit of Netflix instead and after a couple of episodes of Narcos, Jonas pulls out Settlers and they play for a while, then both take a nap to shake the hangover.

Later, when Isak carefully shrugs into his hoodie and toes into his sneaks to go home for a shower and a fresh change of clothes, Jonas looks up at him from his bed.

“Dude, are you sure you wanna go to that party later?”

“Yeah...Ride or die.” Isak says with a wink.

“Yeah, okay, but…” Jonas says hesitantly, clearly doubting if it’s a good idea to hit up a massive party with a broken arm in a cast.

“Look, I’m fine. The hangover is gone, and I’ll just take some more ibuprofen for my arm…” Isak says.

“Okay.” Jonas says and then stands up, following Isak to the door.

Isak opens the door and is about to step outside, when he turns around and sends Jonas a smile.

“You should invite Isabel to the party.”

Jonas nods back with a smile.“Right. That’s a good idea, actually, Iss.”

“I know.” Isak smirks and then he’s out the door with a “see you later, man.” lifting his left hand in a salute at Jonas.

∙

When he reaches the front door to his house, he fumbles a bit to pull up his key, but finally manages to draw it up from his jacket pocket and unlock the door.

His mother is awake and lucid in the kitchen when he enters, and she high-key panics for a second when she sees his arm in a cast.

He ensures her that it’s isn’t so bad, but definitely doesn’t tell her anything about last night and how he’d tried to skate down the Opera House with Jonas.

He lets her find him a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen and for a second revels in her taking care of him.

After a little while she goes back to bed, and Isak hits the bathroom, strips down and takes an awkward shower, trying to keep his casted right arm out of the water.

Afterwards it takes him forever to get dressed, but he eventually manages to pull on a pair of jeans and a loose grey t-shirt. He gives up on trying to style his hair with his left hand though, and instead grabs a snapback, which is probably Jonas’, off the desk and puts it on to cover his messy, damp curls. Then he sticks a couple of painkillers in his jeans pocket and gingerly shrugs into a hoodie and jacket.

On the way to the tram, he buys two liters of orange juice and then continues towards the tram swinging a plastic bag of beers, orange juice and the half-filled bottle of gin he found in one of the cabinets in the living room.

∙

He can hear the party from a distance of 100 meters; the sound of a deep bass fills the cold early-spring air, and when he gets closer to the house, he can see, that the 200+ people listed as _attending_ on the Facebook invite was probably no lie. The garden outside is filled with people smoking, and the house looks packed to the brim. He’s about to step into a rager.

He takes a deep breath and slows his steps slightly, eventually coming to a full stop at the end of the driveway. He fumbles a bit to pull up his phone with his left hand. Then he unlocks it, and drops Magnus and Jonas a message in the group chat.

* * *

**Gutta**

22:12

Here now. Where are you?

Jonas: Kitchen

Magnus: omw. ETA 10 minutes

Image sent.

* * *

Isak clicks on the picture and snorts a laugh at Magnus’ tram selfie; he’s holding up a bottle of vodka, pouting his lips in a kiss.

He sends back a thumbs up, pockets his phone and makes his way inside, beelining for the kitchen.

He quickly spots Jonas talking to some guys inside and walks up to them, nodding his head in greeting.

“Hey, bro.” he says to Jonas.

“Hey, Issy!” Jonas smiles back, then jerks his head at his arm. “...how’s your arm?”

“Painful.” He says curtly, then sets his plastic bag on the kitchen counter, rummaging around with his left hand. “Want a beer? I actually brought my own today…” he jokes and pulls up a can of beer from his plastic bag.

“Wow, you brought your own beers for once...” Jonas jokes, then he looks at Isak’s arm again. “...Weren’t you supposed to wear that sling?”

“Ugh, whatever. You want a beer, or??” Isak snarks back, lifting his eyebrows.

“Sure.” Jonas smiles, and Isak rummages in the bag for another beer, then hands it to Jonas.

“Thanks, man.” Jonas smiles, opening the beer and taking a sip, while Isak struggles to open his own beer with his left hand.

“Need help with that?” Jonas smirks.

“Nope, I got it.” Isak says determinedly, then spends a good twenty seconds wrestling the can open. It finally cracks open with a weak fizz and Isak triumphantly lifts it to his lips.

A couple minutes later, Magnus joins them in the kitchen with a loud, “gutttter!!!”, launching himself at both of them.

“Ow, ow, fuck.” Isak winces and pulls back from Magnus’ bearhug, cradling his wrist to his chest.

“Shit sorry, man!” Magnus says, when he spots the cast on his wrist. He widens his eyes, staring at the cast.

“How did _that_ happen??”

“Uh…” Isak shrugs, trying to dodge the question.

“…We tried to skate down the roof of the Opera House last night...” Jonas supplies, and Magnus flat out _squeaks_ a laugh, then covers his hand with his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just...”, he lets out another laugh, “what the _fuck_??”

Jonas just shrugs and half-turns to Isak, silently urging him to come clean about his royally stupid idea.

“Yeah, yeah…” Isak rolls his eyes, “…whatever, it was a stupid fucking idea… In my defense, I was crossfaded as _fuck_.”

“Okay, okay.” Magnus says placatingly, then gives Isak a sorta sympathetic smile. “Trying to get over Sara?”

Isak almost snorts at that but manages a shrug instead. “Something like that.”

Magnus nods solemnly for a second. Then he pulls up a bottle of vodka from a plastic bag and smiles at Isak and Jonas, unceremoniously changing the subject.

“Shots?”

“Sure, bring it.” Isak says, and Magnus leaves on a quest for shot glasses.

“Mags, man…” Jonas smiles with a shake of his head, when Magnus leaves in a flurry, and Isak can only smile back. “Yeah. Dude’s awesome.”

∙

Magnus returns a couple of minutes later with a roll of plastic shot glasses and unpacks them on the kitchen counter next to Isak.

“Yo! Jonas!” a voice then calls, and Isak looks up to see Mikael and Even walk into the kitchen with a couple of friends in tow. His heart skips a beat when he sees Even lifting his eyebrows in a surprised smile.

“Hey, dude!” Jonas smiles and takes a step forward clapping Mikael’s hand in greeting.

Isak’s eyes are stuck on Even, though. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a grey Notorious B.I.G t-shirt, and his hair is styled and Isak can’t stop looking because _damn. He’s. Yeah. Wow._

“Hey.” Even smiles at him, and he finally snaps out of it, nodding back a weak “hey.”

Magnus introduces himself, and Even’s friends introduce themselves as Mutta and Adam, and Isak nods a “hey” at them, while Jonas and Magnus clap everyone’s hands.

“What happened to you?” Even then asks, nodding at Isak’s casted arm.

“Uh…” Isak starts, looking down.

“…Oh, fy faen, it’s so fucking funny.” Magnus cuts in with a laugh.

Even leans his hip against the kitchen counter and looks over at Magnus, who puts his arm around Isak’s shoulder. “Isak here skated down the slope of the Opera House yesterday…”

There are a few ill-disguised snorts of laughter and “whaaaaat??”-s coming from Even’s friends, and when Isak looks up, Even lifts his eyebrows at him. “You tried to skate down the Opera House?”

“Yeah.” Isak says. “…emphasis on _tried,_ I guess. I only made it about half-way....” he nods his head slightly at his right arm. “...Broke my wrist. _And_ my elbow.”

“Sounds, uh...” Even rolls his lip in and seems to be struggling for words, pretty eyebrows drawing together.

“ _Stupid_ , I know…” Isak scoffs.

“I was gonna say _ballsy_ , actually …” Even then smiles, looking directly at him, and Mikael joins in with a nod. “Hella ballsy, man.”

Isak’s eyes lock with Even’s for a moment. He notices the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, when he smiles.

“..Oh, shit. I just had a thought,” Magnus says then, effectively ending the moment.

“Hmm? What?” Isak reluctantly turns away from Even to look at Magnus.

Magnus nods his head at Isak’s arm. “You’re right-handed, right? So, how are you gonna jerk off now? Shit, now I feel even more sorry that Sara broke up with you.”

Jonas and Mikael both snort a laugh in the background, but Even stays silent.

“Dude, didn’t you know, I’m ambidextrous?” Isak says drily, looking Magnus dead in the eye.

Jonas snorts another laugh, louder this time, and Isak almost breaks into a smile.

“Serr?” Magnus asks.

There’s a moment of silence, before Isak’s serious façade cracks.

“Nei...” he laughs, and all the other guys break into laughter, too.

“…But I guess I _will_ _be_ , when this cast comes off in a few weeks.” He then winks at Magnus to another chorus of laughs.

“Oiii!” Magnus laughs, raising his right hand to high-five him.

Isak arches an eyebrow at him and Magnus drops his hand with a “shit, right.” He twists open the vodka bottle instead and pours up shots, then hands out shot glasses to everyone. He lifts his own glass in a toast:

“To Isak’s new girlfriend; his left hand! Skål!”

There’s laughter all around, and Isak cracks a laugh, too. “Whatever.” he then huffs with an eyeroll at Magnus over the rim of his shot glass before he tips the glass back, letting the vodka slide down his throat.

Afterwards Even and his friends blend into the crowd of the party, and Isak hangs out with Jonas and Magnus, tipping back more shots and eventually launching into a few games of beer pong with some random dudes from Nissen.

He can’t help occasionally letting his eyes wander over the crowd, though, looking for Even. But the place is packed, and there’s no trace of Even.

After a while Isabel shows up, and Jonas disappears with her _to go smoke in the garden_.

Then Magnus slinks off to try his luck with some second-year girl, and Isak leans back and sips his beer while he watches Magnus awkwardly flirt with a pretty girl with long brown hair. The girl’s eyes stray across the room though, and when Isak follows her line of sight, his eyes settle on Even and his friends.

Even is leaning against the wall, his hand loosely circling the neck of the beer bottle. He throws his head back laughing, as one of his friends – Mutta – gesticulates wildly. When he snaps his head back, a rogue curl from his otherwise styled hair falls over his forehead, and he purses his lips to take a sip of beer and _yeah, okay,_ Isak understands why the girl was looking.

He lets himself watch for a moment, feeling his lips pull into an involuntary smile at Even’s contagious laugh across the room.

He has to eventually almost _force_ himself to look away before Even catches him staring. So, he looks back at Magnus instead and quirks a crooked smile as he watches him crash and burn with the second-year chick.

While he sips his beer and watches Magnus, a pretty, blond girl comes up to him and starts talking to him, asking him if he goes to Bakka.

“Uh, no, Nissen.” Isak replies and takes a sip of his beer.

“Okay.” The girl says, “what year?”

“First.” Isak says and the girl smiles, “me, too! But at Bakka. I’m Amalie by the way.”

“Isak.” He says curtly, but the girl doesn’t take the hint and keeps talking, flirting, flicking her hair around. Isak zones out a bit, his eyes straying across the room to Even a few times, but the girl doesn’t seem to notice. Neither does Even; he looks completely engrossed in conversation with his friends, smiling and laughing as he sips his beer.

After a few minutes, Isak excuses himself from the conversation with the girl and makes his way to the kitchen in search of his booze. He locates his plastic bag somewhere on the floor and pulls up the half-filled bottle of gin and the juice and pours himself a drink in a plastic cup.

Pulling the hood of his hoodie over his snapback, he then walks out into the garden, finding a semi-peaceful spot by a stairwell to a basement. He plops down and pulls up two ibuprofen from his jeans pocket, swallowing them with a sip of gin and juice. He grimaces slightly at the taste; he wasn’t skimpy on the gin, so it’s something like a 50:50 ratio.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and is about to pull up his phone, when he hears a “hey.”

He looks up at the familiar deep voice and then Even unceremoniously plops down next to him, leaning over to peer into his plastic cup.

“Gin and juice?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Very hood.” Even says.

“Hm?” Isak frowns lightly.

“Snoop Dogg?” Even asks with a smile. “ _Rollin’ down the street smokin’ indo, sippin’ on gin and juice…_ ”

Isak snorts a laugh. “Right, yeah… _Laiiiid back_ …” he adds and Even laughs, too. “Exactly.”

Their laughter tapers off, and there’s a beat of silence between them. Then Even drops his gaze to Isak’s casted wrist.

“How's your arm? Are you okay?”

Isak looks down at his cast, too. “Yeah. It was just... stupid. I was pretty drunk. Pretty fuckin’ high, too.“ 

Even nods and pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it. He takes a long inhale, then purses his lips and blows out the smoke, and Isak looks at the little grey clouds of smoke. 

“And your girlfriend broke up with you?” Even then asks.

“Yeah.” Isak shrugs.

“Sounds like a shitty week.” Even says with a smile, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Isak chuckles at that. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s another beat of silence, then he nods at Even’s cigarette. “Can I have one?”

“Sure.” Even says, drawing up a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his hoodie pocket and handing them to Isak.

“Thanks.” Isak says, taking out a cigarette, putting it between his lips. He tries to light it with his left hand, but the flame keeps going out, no matter which direction he turns, and he can’t really use his casted right hand to shield the flame from the wind.

“Here, let me.” Even smiles, plucking the lighter from his fingers. He scoots a bit closer and leans in, lighting the lighter and cupping a palm around the flame to shield it.

Isak leans in and lights up the cigarette. “Thanks.” He says on an exhale.

“No problem.” Even smiles softly, leaning back to slide his lighter into his jeans pocket. Isak drops his gaze to the grass beneath him, eyes for a second straying to where Even’s black jeans stretch tightly over his hip, his crotch.

They sit in silence for a few moments, and Isak is acutely aware of Even’s presence. How he hasn’t really scooted back after lighting the cigarette for him, opting to sit kinda close. His hand casually resting on the black denim stretching over his thigh. The subtle smell of cologne mixed with cigarettes and a hint of weed.

He casts a side-glance at Even, sneaking a look at his profile; his jaw, his lips, the arch of his eyebrow. He notices a tiny scar on Even’s right cheek.

Even looks out at the horizon, and Isak feels kinda light-headed.

Could be the gin and the cigarette.

_Probably not._

The silence stretches between them, and Isak desperately searches for something to say.

“I, uh, thought about the tutoring thing…” He finally settles on, and Even turns his head to look at him.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I’ll do it.” Isak says determinedly, noticing how Even’s lips quirk into a smile as soon as he has said the words.

“You will?” 

“Mhmm.” Isak nods. “For 200 kroner per session.”

Even whistles, “expensive.”

Isak shrugs. “Or, we can agree on 150 kroner plus one gram of Mikael’s weed. Per session.”

Even lifts his eyebrows, lips dropping slightly open in an incredulous smile. “Wow. You drive a hard bargain.”

“Yeah, well.” Isak smirks, “… _Got my mind on my money and my money on my mind_ …” he raps Snoop Dogg, picking up from earlier. 

“Oiiii!” Even laughs, immediately picking up the reference. He shakes his head slightly, but the smile stays on his lips. The he looks at Isak, rests his gaze on him for a few moments, and Isak can feel the smirk drop from his own lips and his mouth go dry, as Even flits his eyes over his face, dropping them to his lips for a split second. Then he looks back up at Isak’s eyes, blue eyes almost radiant in the darkness. Isak can hear his own breathing in the silence between them. Can feel his heart in his throat. 

“Well...” Even then says, “I’ll have my lawyers draw up a contract.”

And just like that the moment is gone.

Isak nods. “Yeah, you do that.” His lips quirk into a crooked smile.

“I will.” Even smiles back, and then pulls up his pack of cigarettes again, sticking one between his lips and offering the pack to Isak.

Isak pulls one out and lets Even light it for him with a “thanks.”

He only gets halfway through the cigarette though, then he starts to shiver; early March still way too early to hang out outside drunk in the middle of the night wearing only a hoodie.

“Cold?” Even asks him softly.

“Uh, _no_.” he scoffs, but he can’t repress a slight shudder; the cold barely-spring night air permeating his hoodie, jeans, everything.

Even cracks a little laugh.

“Isak, you’re shivering.”

Isak shrugs stubbornly, but it turns into another little shudder.

Even looks at him for a moment with a smile, eyes crinkling a bit.  
  
“Let’s go inside.” he says, stubbing out the cigarette and standing up, stretching out his left hand to Isak. Isak keeps sitting for a second, looking up at Even defiantly. Even lifts his eyebrows with a smile, and Isak finally caves, stubbing out his own cigarette and taking Even’s hand, letting him pull him up. Even’s palm is warm, but his fingertips are icy cold where they’re clasped against his good wrist.

He holds on to Even’s hand for just a beat, then he lets go, and they make their way inside the still-packed house party, running into Jonas in the kitchen.

“Yo!” Jonas slurs slightly.

“Hey.” Isak smiles back, “what’s up?”

“I couldn’t find you, man. Was just about to text you…”

“Uh, we were just outside smoking.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Jonas smiles. “…So, I was thinking about jetting with Isabel. Go to her place. But, like, do you need a place to crash? You can have my key, if-”

“No no, it’s fine. I’ll… figure it out. Sleep at Mags' or whatever.” Isak says, giving Jonas a look, he hopes conveys that he doesn’t want to talk about his living situation right now. Not in front of Even.

“Yeah? You sure?” Jonas asks.

“Yeah.” Isak assures him.

“Okay.” Jonas nods, then he claps Even’s hand in goodbye and gives Isak a one-armed hug around the shoulders before backing away with a “hey, remember to wear your sling tomorrow, man…and don’t do anything _stupid_.”

Isak flips him off with a smirk and calls out a loud “have fun with your girl.”

“I will.” Jonas winks and then he blends into the crowd, and Isak loses sight of him. He looks over at Even instead, and finds that Even is already looking at him, eyebrows up in slight concern.

“You need a place a crash?”

“Uh, no. No, I’m good.” Isak deflects, because he does not feel like telling Even about the whole _yeah-my-mom-is-batshit-crazy-so-I-can’t-really-stand-being-home_ situation. Also, the thought of Even possibly offering up his own floor for Isak to crash on, and sleeping next to him in his room, which probably smells like him and-. Yeah, that’s too intense.

“Okay.” Even nods, then he spins back to the fridge. “Beer?”

“Sure.” Isak shrugs easily and Even grabs two bottled beers from the fridge, opening them both with his lighter before handing one to Isak.

“Thanks.”

“No worries.” Even smiles, then raises his beer in a toast. “To our contract.”

“To our contract.” Isak smirks back and lifts his beer to his lips.

“…What contract?” Mikael says, as he strolls up to them with Mutta and Adam in tow.

Even smiles at Mikael. “Isak has agreed to tutoring us in physics.”

“Sweet, bro!” Mikael smiles, giving Isak a lefthanded fist bump.

“…In exchange for weed.” Even adds with a smile.

“ _Partially_...” Isak cuts in, “...money, too.”

“Okay. Deal.” Mikael says plainly. “When do we start?”

Isak looks at Mikael, then at Even, “Uh, dunno. That’s up to you, I guess.”

“How about next week?” Even asks.

“Sure.” Isak agrees easily.

“It’s a deal then. Next week.” Even smiles before taking a sip of beer.

“Uh, actually…” Mikael squints his eyes, looking at Even, “… aren’t you going on that cabin trip with Sonja next week? For Easter?”

Even’s mouth drops open in a perfect _O._

“Oh, shit, right.”

Isak feels an irrational pang of disappointment.

_Sonja. Right. The Girlfriend._

He mentally scolds himself for feeling disappointed and bounces back quickly. “The week after, then?”

“Works for me.” Mikael says.

“Sure. The week after.” Even confirms and clinks his bottle of Tuborg to Isak’s.

∙

The party dwindles down around 3 am, and Isak has definitively lost sight of Magnus.

He texts him a wildly misspelled message asking if he’s gone home, but he doesn’t reply. So, Isak mumbles a quiet _fuck it_ and squats down to find his jacket in a pile of outerwear strewn on the floor. He finds it, stands back up and carefully shrugs into it, wincing at the dull throbbing in his right wrist and elbow despite of the ibuprofen. And the alcohol.

“You leaving?”

He turns around and finds Even leaning against the doorframe.

“Uh. Yeah.” He replies, checking his phone one last time for a reply from Magnus.

Still no reply.

“Hold on a sec…” Even says, leaving Isak frowning in the corridor.

He comes back a moment later with his jacket over his arm and a backpack hanging off his shoulder. He pulls on a beanie, then pulls the hood of his hoodie over it and shrugs into his jacket. Then he opens the door for Isak, motioning for him to go first and they start walking down the street in the direction of the tram stop.

“Are you walking me home? What the fuck…?” Isak huffs.

“Just want to make sure you don’t break your other arm, too.” Even shoots him a teasing smile.

“Faen, _that_ would suck …” Isak muses drunkenly, then cracks a lame joke, “then I’d have _zero_ girlfriends…”

Even drops his lips open in a faux-scandalized _O_ , then snorts a laugh, and Isak mind strays.

 _Those fucking lips_.

There’s a flutter in his chest, and he feels a slight flush coming on, his imagination running about a hundred miles per hour.

“...Well, if that’s your only problem…I can’t imagine you having trouble finding a new girlfriend.” Even then says.

Isak casts him a quick side-glance to see if he’s joking, but Even is looking at the pavement beneath him, a tiny soft smile playing at his lips.

“Uh…” Isak says dumbly, the fluttering in his chest growing stronger, heart rate definitely picking up.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t have a quick, sarcastic off-hand reply. Doesn’t even know what Even meant, to be honest. So, they continue in silence, with Isak’s fuzzy, drunk brain desperately trying to make sense of Even’s words.

They take the tram to the Grefsen tram stop and from there it’s a pretty short walk to Isak’s street. They launch into a bit of small talk about the party, their friends and school, and Isak lowkey goes off on a tirade about Norwegian class and fairytales and how much he hates them.  
“Why are you so skeptical about fairytales??” Even laughs.  
“Because it’s fake.” Isak replies. “...No one lives happily ever after.”  
  
“Wow.” Even quirks a smile, “...so, not a romantic, huh?”

”Nope.” Isak replies, popping the p.

“Okay.” Even nods with a little smile, and Isak almost regrets his words. Almost.

∙

Eventually they reach his street and when they get closer to his house, Isak stops some ten meters from the driveway to cast a glance at the house. It’s completely dark. He turns back to face Even, taking a couple of steps to the left, making sure to avoid the faint yellow light from the streetlight. 

“Well, thank you for walking me home… I mean, kinda weird, but okayyy…” he jokes with a grimace and a shrug; defaulting to sarcasm because it’s easier this way. 

Luckily, Even takes the bait.

“Jeez…” he smiles, rolling his eyes slightly at Isak, “…If I’d known you were gonna be this testy about it, I would’ve just, like, walked ten meters behind you, minding my own business. Would that have been better, or?”

“Nah. Would’ve been kinda stalkerish.” Isak deadpans, and Even snorts a laugh, nodding his head. “True.”

“Anyway, I live like 10 minutes from here… And I was leaving anyway...” Even rolls his lip in. “…I promised the guys I’d join the clean-up tomorrow.”

“Clean-up?” Isak narrows his eyes in question.

“Yeah. After the party.”

“Wait, that was, like, _your_ party?” Isak asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Elias’, Adam’s and Mutta’s mostly. They’re desperately trying to raise money for their bus.”

“Serr?” Isak says.

“Yeah.” Even smiles.

Isak then frowns again, “but, you’re not on the bus?”

“No.”

“What, you’re too cool for that?” Isak jokes.

“Aww…” Even tilts his head teasingly, “…you think I’m cool?”

Isak rolls his eyes with a smile and a weak “no.”

Even smiles back at him, nodding. "You _so_ think I'm cool."

“Uh, you wish." Isak mutters feebly. He can't stop smiling though, the fluttering in his chest returning full-force.

Even looks at him for a second, eyes disappearing into tiny slits as he smiles. Then he slowly takes a few steps closer and draws him into a careful hug.

“Sleep tight, Isak."

The hug kinda takes Isak by surprise, but he leans into it after a split second. When they are standing close like this, the four or five inches in height difference is noticeable; Isak’s nose reaches somewhere around Even’s collarbone, and he lets himself inhale Even’s scent, reveling in the contact for a moment, before he pulls back.

Even gives him a soft smile, and Isak feels the fluttering in his chest get stronger, making him almost breathless.

“Goodnight, Even.” He says quietly.

“Goodnight, Isak.” Even smiles and keeps his eyes on him as he takes a few steps back.

Then he turns around and walks away, leaving Isak in the driveway following him with his eyes until he turns a corner and walks out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl;dr: Isak makes questionable choices and Even thinks he’s adorable.


	5. Coke Bottle Resonance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Elias, Mikael and Even being bros, Sassy!Isak, physics, and Isak’s left hand......

The day after the party, Even starts following him on Insta, but other than that, it’s more than a week before Isak hears from him again.

9 days to be exact.

And he’s fine with that. So fine. Why would he expect to hear from Even, anyway? Just because they hung out at a party and Even shared his cigarettes with him and then walked him home and hugged him doesn’t mean they’re friends now, or whatever.

Even probably added him on Facebook and Insta to have a place to communicate about the tutoring thing, and they’ve already agreed on that. It will be sometime next week. The two of them. Mikael. Possibly Elias. So really, there’s no reason for Even to text him. Like Mikael said at the party; Even is away on Easter holiday with his girlfriend, after all.

He follows Even back on Insta and spends a good 30 minutes clicking through his pictures. There are none of his girlfriend. It’s mostly street art, close-ups of trashy party scenes and the occasional nature pic tagged way up north, near Tromsø.

The latest picture, uploaded 1 day ago, is an [exterior shot of the cabin](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/630979048087207936), where Isak guesses Even is currently at. Sunlight and a bit of lense flare give the pic a distinct artsy aesthetic, and Isak snorts at the pure hipster _Bakkaness_ of it.

And he tries not to think about him, he really does. Tries not to check his phone for notifications, tries not to stalk Even’s Insta every day for updates on his romantic cabin trip, tries not to think about last fall where he three-wheeled Jonas’ and Eva’s cabin trip and almost caught them having sex, tries not to think about how there’s probably no one to disturb Even and Sonja, tries not to think about Even fucking her into oblivion with no distractions, it’s probably just a whole week of them fucking and _yeah_. He tries not to think about it. 

He tries not to think about it when he’s gaming or drinking beers with Jonas and Magnus and this new guy, Mahdi, from Jonas’ Spanish class. When he’s eating sad meals of pasta with ketchup or soggy cereal in his room while his mom is asleep. When he joins Jonas and Mikael at the bowl, chilling at the top watching them skate. When he smokes up with them and inhales the acrid smoke.

When he jerks off. 

_Especially_ when he jerks off.

The first few times, he tries it out with his left hand, because his right hand is still in a cast, is not a success, and he decides to quit, because it’s really not working for him; just leaves him frustrated and with blue balls. A cold shower helps for a couple of hours.

But as the next days pass, and he grows increasingly frustrated and horny, he has no choice but to give in, and try it out with his left hand again.

It still feels kinda awkward; he can’t quite get the rhythm or pressure right, and it feels so different it’s almost like it’s someone else touching him. And that happens to be the _exact thought_ , that sets his mind racing.

He squeezes his eyes shut and pretends it’s someone else’s hand around his dick. Then his thoughts spiral to specifically _Even’s_ hand.

His whole body seems to support the fantasy; his dick grows even harder in his palm, and drops of pre-cum push out the slit as his imagination does a good job of providing him with visuals of Even’s hands - his fingers curling around a beer or a cigarette or a joint, and how it had felt to hold his hand for a second, when Even had stretched his hand out to him and pulled him up from the ground at the party last weekend.

He gets desperately horny in a matter of seconds; the previous days’ worth of sexual frustration builds to a crescendo, and he closes his fist tighter around himself and strokes faster, mind running wild imagining how Even would touch him. Would he be quick and dirty or slow and gentle.

An unwelcome image of Even having slow, romantic sex with his girlfriend in that fucking cabin pops into his mind, but when Even’s girlfriend somehow distorts into a guy, his thighs tense up, as he pushes into his hand, and it’s barely ten seconds before his whole body pulls tight like a cord, and _snaps_ with him hitching a shaky breath and then coming over his fingers and stomach.

He seems to just keep coming, so he works himself through it, fingers circling around the tip, as the last few drops of cum trickle down and pool in his pubes. The orgasm is so intense, it knocks his breath out. And that’s despite the awkwardness of having to use his left hand.

Afterwards he tries to catch his breath, body feeling heavy against the damp sheets.

And then the shame sets in. He breathes out and stares into the ceiling, as his cheeks heat up at what he just did. He mentally chastises himself, trying to convince himself, that jerking off to Even was just a fluke. Still, it’s not the first time the thought of Even has popped into his mind while he’s touching himself. He’s not sure it’s gonna be the last either.

With a sigh he pulls off his t-shirt and wipes his sticky hand and stomach with it. Then he balls it up in his left fist and throws it across his room, missing the hamper by his closet by a few inches.

...definitely not ambidextrous yet.

∙

It’s on a Monday afternoon hanging out with Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi, at Jonas’ place, that he finally gets a Facebook message from Even.

It’s short, basically just a “still up for tutoring?” but his heart still skips a beat, when he reads the message. 

Jonas looks over at him from where he’s chilling in the far end of the couch, while Magnus and Mahdi battle it out in FIFA.

“What’s up man? What are you smiling about?” Jonas smirks, and Isak looks up, quickly schooling his features into something more nonchalant.

“Uh, nothing.”

Jonas nods at the phone clutched in his hand. “Who’s texting you?”

“Uh, no one. Just Even.”

“Even?” Magnus cuts in, “…from the Bakka-party last weekend?”

“Yeah.” Isak replies.

“Shit, he was so fucking cool.”

“You talked to him?” Isak asks Magnus, trying to sound chill, _nonchalant_ , but he’s still hella curious.

“Yeah. A little bit.” Mags nods, eyes on the screen. Then he snorts a laugh. “...I was hitting on this Bakka-chick, but she was clearly into him. Even, I mean.”

Isak nods, vaguely remembering Magnus chat up a girl and the girl’s eyes straying to Even.

“…So after she ditched me to go dance with her girlfriends, I was just like _fuck it_ and I went up to him and asked for advice on how to pull chicks. So funny. I was so fucking drunk.” Magnus laughs, and Jonas and Mahdi join in laughing.

Isak also snorts a laugh, imagining a drunk Magnus stumbling up to Even for advice on hooking up.

“Well, what did he say?” Isak asks with a smile.

“Faen, I don’t remember… Something about _just being myself_ , I think.” 

Isak nods.

“That’s good advice, bro.” Jonas says and Mahdi nods in agreement. “Yeah, just take it chill, man.”

“…Yeah, but I mean, that’s easy for him to say, he’s a third-year and really cool and good-looking. He probably has tons of chicks crushing on him.” Magnus continues.

“He has a girlfriend.” Isak supplies.

Magnus nods. “Figures…lucky fucker.” He frowns slightly at Isak, “…anyway, what’s he texting _you_ about?”

“Um, tutoring. I kinda agreed to tutor him, and Mikael and Sana’s brother Elias, in physics.”

“What? Seriously?” Magnus and Jonas say in unison.

“Yeah…” Isak squints at Magnus and Jonas, “…What? Why are you so-”

“Dude, why would you accept _more_ schoolwork than we already got?” Jonas cuts in with a frown.

“Uh, well, _money_. And weed.” Isak deadpans.

“Ohhhhh… they’re paying you?” Jonas asks.

“Yeah. That’s kinda the point of tutoring, isn’t it?” Isak smirks.

Jonas hums in understanding. “…Okay. Makes sense.”

“Fair.” Magnus nods. “…But they’re third-years, right?”

“Yeah.”

Mahdi looks up from the screen. “You’re gonna tutor third-years in physics? Didn’t know you were such a nerd, bro.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, man.” Isak sasses back with a wink.

Mahdi just laughs, and Isak turns back to the message from Even.

* * *

**Even Bech Næsheim**

15:34

Hey Isak  
Are you still up for tutoring?

Yup

* * *

Even’s answer comes immediately, making his phone vibrate in his hand.

* * *

**Even Bech Næsheim**

15:40

Awsm 

* * *

A couple of seconds later, he’s added to a group chat

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

15:40

Elias Bakkoush changed the name of the group to Passing physics inshallah

Isak Valtersen was added to the group

  
Elias: Isaaaaaaaaaak! Alhamdulillah!

Huh?

Even: *Thank God*

Elias: Bro ❤️ You’re getting good at Arabic!

Even: Thx man 😘

Mikael: Yeah well too bad we’re taking physics and not Arabic as elective…

Elias: What was it possible to choose Arabic as elective?? 👀

Mikael: No

Even: Don’t think so

Elias: Okay

* * *

Isak cracks a smile as the group chat pings; it’s clear he’s dropped into a group of friends who know each other well.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

Elias: Anyway, @Isak thank you for agreeing to help us out man

Sure

Elias: I heard you negotiated a deal with Even at the party last weekend?  
Bada$$ 

Haha yeah

Even: 150 kroner + one gram of weed right? 🍁

Yup

Mikael: Done.

Elias: 👍  
So, when is everybody free?

Even: How about tomorrow after school? Does that work for you @Isak?

Yeah. I’m done at 1530

Even: I’m done at 1500

Elias: Same

Mikael: Same

Even: Perf

Elias: My place? It’s closest to Nissen.

Works for me

Mikael: Sure

Even: Deal. See you guys tomorrow

👍

* * *

Isak smiles at his phone, and then Magnus pipes up from beside him. “Isak, you’re up!” he says, tossing the PlayStation controller in Isak’s lap, “…Think you can concentrate on the game? Or, are you too busy with your new friends?”

“Oooh, Mags…” Jonas laughs at Magnus’ attempt of a burn.

Isak pockets his phone, and picks up the controller with a smirk. “Chill bro, even with a broken wrist I still play better than you…”

“Hah!” Jonas and Mahdi both snort a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up.” Magnus retorts lamely, then he nods at Isak’s cast, “…speaking of, are you even supposed to be gaming with a broken arm?”

“Dunno.” Isak shrugs. “…The doctor said I could start using it, as soon as it stopped hurting, so…”

“Okay.” Magnus nods. “When’s the cast coming off?”

“Ugh…” Isak groans, “…another two weeks.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“So, are you, like, perpetually horny, or?” Magnus asks, and Jonas and Mahdi both snort a laugh.

Isak flushes a bit at the question, and the boys all turn to him and apparently take his flushed cheeks for confirmation. Well, he guesses they’re not _wrong_ ; he’s still horny all the time, even if he’s made jerking off with his left hand work for him.

Magnus laughs. “You are! …Shit, I don’t envy you. I honestly don’t know what I’d do, if I couldn’t jerk off…”

“No, that’d suck…” Mahdi nods in agreement.

“Maybe that’ll teach you not to do anything _stupid_.” Jonas says to him with a smirk, and Isak rolls his eyes back at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He waves his casted hand at the TV screen, “…just start the fucking game already.”

∙

The next day, Isak is at Elias’ (and Sana’s) apartment at 15:45, buzzing the door and then walking up the stairs. When he reaches the landing, the front door is ajar, so he walks in and takes his jacket off, hanging it on a peg on the wall. He can hear Elias’, Even’s and Mikael’s voices coming from the living room, as he toes out of his sneakers and pushes them to the side next to the other three pairs of Nikes messily sprawled on the floor.

Then he runs his left hand through the curls, he actually spent time styling before school, and walks toward the living room.

Inside, Even, Elias and Mikael are lounging in two couches, watching something on the flatscreen tv hanging on the wall, and Isak’s eyes immediately settle on Even. He’s wearing a grey hoodie and has pulled one long leg up underneath him, the dark blue denim of his jeans stretching tightly over his thigh. His hair is styled the same way it was at the party when Isak last saw him. He’s the first of the guys to register Isak’s soft footsteps coming into the living room and he looks up, shooting him an easy smile. “Hey, Isak.”

“Hey.” Isak says, with a weak nod back.

Elias and Mikael also look up then and both greet him with smiles.

“Isak, man, welcome!” Elias says, and waves his hand at the empty seat in the other couch, next to Even. “Sit down, man.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Isak says and sits down in the far end of the couch. He focuses on the tv, as he zips down his hoodie and shrugs out. “What are you watching?”

“Just some reaction videos on YouTube…hella funny.” Elias says, then looks at his casted wrist. “Shit, bro, how did that happen?”

Isak catches Even looking at him out of the corner of his eye. There’s a little smile playing at his lips.

“Uh, skate accident.” Isak replies, glossing over the details.

Even and Mikael stay silent, and Elias just nods in understanding. “Sucks, man.”

“Yeah.” Isak agrees.

“So…” Even speaks up, and Isak twists a bit in his seat to look at him.

“…are you ambidextrous, yet?” he smirks, and Isak immediately flushes.

“Uh. No. Not yet.” He replies lamely, and Even just nods, lips pulled into a tiny smile.

Elias looks between them for a second, then leans forward to grab the remote and turn the tv off. “Okay, but on to more serious business…” he says, making all three guys turn their head to look at him. “…We have a lab report to hand in next week… and… we’re fucked.”

“True.” Mikael says, and Even nods.

“Well,” Isak says, bouncing back to familiar territory, “…that’s what you’re paying me for.” He smirks. “What’s the subject of the report?”

“Well, uh…” Elias says.

“Uh…” Even says, looking utterly lost, and Mikael shrugs. “Dunno, man.”

Isak looks between the three of them, muttering a sarcastic “jeez, this is gonna be some hard-earned cash…”

“Sorry.” Even says innocently, rolling his lip in.

“Yeah, yeah… Just figure out the topic, and we’ll take it from there.” Isak says.

Even nods and pulls up a laptop from his backpack on the floor, places it in his lap and flips the lid open, navigating to Elvebakken’s student intranet. “…Okay, so the subject for the report iiiis…” he says, clicking through a few pages.

“Dun dun dun…” Mikael sing-songs for added suspense.

“...Coke bottle resonance.” Even finally says. Then he looks up from the screen, and over at Isak, eyebrows drawing together as he repeats the words. “ _Coke Bottle Resonance?_ ”

“Huh.” Elias says.

“Lemme see…” Isak says, scooting closer and leaning forward to be able to read on Even’s screen.

He recognizes a subtle hint of cologne as he leans in, the same one Even was wearing at the party last week, and for a second wonders if he always smells this good.

 _Quit it_. He chastises himself and tries to focus on the screen instead, eyes skimming over the text and reading about the experiment.

“Okay.” He says, eyes moving quickly over the screen, “…so, it’s a wave frequency experiment… where you, uh, blow over the top of a coke bottle to produce different frequencies… and then you plot the results and compare them with something called _the cavity resonance expression_ …” he looks up, “…sounds easy...” he winks.

Then he leans back and subtly scoots a bit to the side and finds Even staring at him with slightly parted lips.

“Duuuude…” Elias says, also looking wide-eyed at him, “…are you sure, you’re a first-year?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.” Isak sasses back, making all three guys snort a laugh.

“…Okay, okay…” Mikael then smiles, “…so, basically, we produce tones and plot them, and then do some yadda-yadda calculations?”

“Basically, yeah.” Isak nods.

“But, how do we produce different tones?” Even asks, “...isn’t there just going to be one tone?”

“Uh…” Isak skims over the text again, “…we gradually add water to the bottle to change the volume...like, making the inside of the bottle smaller in a way, I guess… the more water, the higher the note. Or, you can try blowing harder to produce higher notes.”

“ _Blowing harder_ …” Elias smirks.

“Oh. Okay.” Even nods at Isak in understanding, completely ignoring Elias’ innuendo. 

“Okay, cool.” Mikael smiles, clapping his hands together, “…well, let’s go, then.”

Elias crunches up from the deep couch, “...I’ll try to find some empty bottles… “, then he stands up from the couch and walks out of the room.

Isak looks over at Even. “Can I see your textbook?”

“Sure.” Even smiles and draws up a pristine-looking physics textbook from his backpack.

“Have you ever opened this?” Isak asks with a smirk, when Even hands him the book.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Even says, and Isak snorts a laugh at that, shaking his head slightly as he flips open the book to the table of content. “Jeez.”

Elias returns about a minute later with a couple of empty glass coke bottles, setting them on the coffee table. “There. What else do we need?”

“Uh…”Isak says, putting the textbook down beside him and leaning in to scroll on Even’s screen again, reading through the description of the experiment, “…a ruler…some water…and a software called LabView…?” he looks up at Elias.

“Yeah, I’ve already downloaded and installed it.” Elias says.

“Cool.” Isak nods, “…That’s it, then. I think we’re ready to begin…it says in the description to first try to hum or whistle the standard pitch at 440 hertz to make a sorta baseline for the software, and then take it from there.”

Elias looks at him, then over at Even and Mikael. “What the fuck is the standard pitch?”

“A.” Even replies, “…like when you’re tuning a guitar.”

“Dude, you know I don’t play…” Elias says.

“Right.” Even smiles.

Isak can’t help looking over at Even. “Do you play guitar?”

“A little bit.” Even smiles.

“Oh. Cool.” Isak nods, filing away the information. Plays guitar, check.

“He basically only picked it up to pull chicks.” Elias then says conspiratorially, jerking his thumb at Even.

Isak looks over at Even again.

Even shakes his head, smiling at Elias. “I really didn’t, man.”

“No, bro, you’re forgetting that Even’s been with Sonja since _forever_ …” Mikael says to Elias, and Isak files away _that_ information, too. _Of course he has._

“Oh, shit, right…” Elias says, “…well, what the fuck is the point in learning to play guitar, then? If not to pull chicks…?”

Isak observes the conversation with a smirk, interested in Even’s answer.

Even lifts his eyebrows at Elias with a smile. “Uh, to be able to play songs, man… I don’t know, why did you start playing basketball?” 

“Because it’s fun.” Elias says plainly.

Even waves his hand at Elias to make a point. “Well, there you go.”

“Huh.” Elias says.

“Anyways…” Mikael says, looking over at Even. “…You think you can hit that note, bro? The A.”

Even pulls a little shrug and a smirk. “Maybe.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Mikael says challengingly and Isak leans back, looking expectantly at Even.

“Wait, wait!” Elias says, grabbing his laptop from the coffee table and flipping open the lid, “…we gotta record it.” He starts the software and clicks around a bit before looking up, angling the laptop screen and microphone towards Even. “Okay, ready. Go, Ev.”

Even scoots a bit closer to the screen, draws in a breath and purses his lips, then whistles a near-perfect A note and holds it for a good ten seconds for the sake of the recording.

And Isak’s mind short-circuits.

He swallows drily as blood surges downward to pool between his legs, while he basically just _stares_ at Even. The way his cheeks hollow looks obscene, and his lips look so plush, and that little indent in his bottom lip is even more pronounced when his lips are pursed in an O like this, and Isak can’t take it. His imagination starts going wild over Even’s lips pursed open like that, and he silently curses this whole tutoring thing, because _holy shit,_ _this is gonna be some_ hard _-earned cash indeed._

He swallows again, throat clicking drily, and he doesn’t even dare to peek down at his crotch to see how visible his boner is, too afraid to draw attention to himself. So, he crosses his legs instead and hopes no one notices. Especially not Even. Because _fuck_.

“…Isak… Isak?”

“Hmm? Huh?” he answers dumbly, when Elias’ voice finally registers.

“Was that the tone? The _whatever_ _pitch_ …?” Elias asks.

“Uh…” Isak says as he looks over at Even for a second. Even just smiles back at him, lifting his eyebrows in silent question.

Isak mentally shakes his head, then nods at Elias’ laptop. “Yeah, uh, let me see the recording…”

Elias angles his laptop screen towards him and Isak takes a look at the graph. “442 hz, so yeah, very close.”

“Yessss.” Even smiles triumphantly, and Mikael and Elias both clap at him.

“Nice work, bro.” Elias says.

“Didn’t think you’d actually hit the note to be honest.” Mikael says, and that makes Even snort a laugh at him. “Wow, thanks for the support, Mik, you know I’ve only been playing guitar for three years...”

“Yeah, well.” Mikael smirks, and then Elias grabs a coke bottle off the coffee table and passes it to Even with a smile. “Now, blow on this, dude.”

Even accepts the coke bottle from Elias with a smirk, then he shrugs out of his grey hoodie, and pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and Isak’s eyes settle on his fingers as they curl casually around the bottle neck.

Elias clicks around on his laptop to start a new recording and then looks over at Even. “Okay, go.”

And Isak’s mind must be determined to commit _everything_ to memory, because it seems like he’s watching in slow-mo when Even moves the bottle closer to his mouth, draws in a breath and purses his lips before blowing over the bottle opening.  
And _yeah_ , Isak is _fucked_.

∙

An excruciatingly long half hour later, Isak excuses himself and goes to the bathroom. He’s so flustered and _so_ _hard_ , straining uncomfortably against the zipper of his tight jeans, and for a moment he actually entertains the idea of busting one out in the bathroom. But then he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and notices his slightly flushed cheeks. Yeah, that’ll probably look way more pronounced post-orgasm and will be pretty hard to explain to the guys. So, he turns on the faucet and splashes his face with cold water instead, readjusting himself in his boxers and then takes a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm the fuck down.

_Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him. Just. Stop._

After a couple of minutes, he feels sufficiently _calm_ to return to the living room, and finds Even, Elias and Mikael immersed in excel sheets, trying to plot their results and calculate the different frequencies.

“Isaaaaaaaaak…” Elias whines, when he steps back into the living room, “...we can’t figure out the fucking cavity resonance expression thing….”

“Shit, I’m gone for two seconds, and you guys are already completely helpless…” Isak sasses back.

“That’s why we need you…” Elias says.

“We need you so bad.” Even agrees, eyes on his screen, and okay, those words coming from him. _Damn_. Isak’s heart rate immediately picks back up.

 _Nope, don’t go there. Not again._ Isak chastises himself, even as his treacherous brain commits Even’s deep voice saying _those words_ to memory. 

He foregoes an answer, because he simply doesn’t trust his voice. Instead he pulls his chair out and sits back down, flipping open Even’s textbook lying next to his laptop, with slightly shaky fingers. He finds the paragraph on resonance and takes a few minutes to read, and then he begins explaining the cavity resonance expression and the correlation between volume and wave frequency. 

It seems that the guys somewhat understand his explanation, and they turn back to their laptops to plot results, and Isak turns back to alternating between Even’s textbook and scrolling Reddit on his phone to distract himself from thinking about. Stuff. 

∙

A little later, when he’s deep in a Reddit rabbit hole about Illuminati and conspiracy theories, there’s the sound of the front door closing with a click and then a “ _Isak? What are you doing here…?_ ”. He snaps his head up to see Sana lifting her eyebrows at him, her backpack hanging off her shoulder.

“Hey, sis…” Elias says casually, “…sorry for stealing your boyfriend…”

“He’s not my boyfri-“ -- “-I’m not her boyfriend-“ they say in unison.

Elias snorts a laugh. “Chill, I’m just fucking with you…both of you.”

Sana rolls her eyes at Elias, then looks at Isak. “…But seriously, what are you doing here?”

“Uh, tutoring…” Isak says, “…Physics.”

“Ah.” Sana nods, then her lips pull into a smirk. “…Well, good luck with that. God knows you’ll need it.”

Isak smiles at her sass, and then she turns around, long black skirt billowing behind her, as she strides to her room.

“Ouch.” Elias says drily and Mikael turns to him with a smirk. “Dude, she’s not wrong.”

“She’s so not wrong.” Isak agrees, drawing in a breath.

∙

At some point in the late afternoon, they migrate from the living room to Elias’ room, settling down around his somewhat messy desk with each their laptop; Elias, Even and Mikael still trying to plot and calculate their results. They discuss among themselves for a bit, and then turn to Isak for clarification and help.

Isak works a bit on some of his own schoolwork; a math assignment for next week, and then he flips through Even’s textbook, trying to get a sense of third-year physics. Some topics sound familiar, but mostly it’s stuff he hasn’t covered at Nissen, yet. He opens a new word document on his laptop and starts a list of topics to research. 

He’s about four topics into his list, when there’s a knock on the door, and Elias calls out a loud “yes, come in.”

Elias’ mom pops in, her face lighting up in a smile, when she sees them around the desk.

“Hey, boys. Isak, it’s nice to see you again.” Then she chinpoints at Elias, Even and Mikael. “…Are you helping the boys out?”

“Thank you. Yes. I’m trying.” He smiles back, and Elias’ mom nods with a smile. “That’s good. It sounded like they could use some help.”

“Mom…” Elias says exasperated, but Even and Mikael just nod at her.

“Sorry, sorry.” she smiles and then looks back at Isak. “Please stay for dinner, Isak.”

“Uh…” he wavers, quickly looking over at the guys.

“Yeah, man, stay for dinner.” Elias says easily and Isak agrees to stay.

“Great.” She nods. “…Dinner is ready in about an hour.”

“Sweet mom, thanks.” Elias says, and then she closes the door behind her.

∙

About an hour later, they move to the living room, sitting down around a nicely set dinner table. Isak ends up sitting next to Even, it’s not that he specifically chooses to, it just sorta ends up that way.

Dinner is delicious; especially after weeks worth of cereal, oatmeal and pasta with ketchup. It’s a tangy tajine with tender pieces of chicken, and Isak can’t help letting out a little moan at how _good_ it is. He catches Even’s smile out of the corner of his eye and feels self-conscious for a second.

Then Elias looks at him from the other side of the table, giving him something else to feel self-conscious about. “Dude, it’s haram to eat with your left hand.”

Isak looks confusedly at his left hand, then back at Elias. “Huh?”

“In Islam it’s forbidden to use your left hand for eating…” Elias says with a nod at his hand and Isak just stares dumbstruck.

“Seriously?” he then asks, eyes straying to Even’s hands and noticing he’s holding his fork in his right hand. He wonders for a second if Even is left-handed, or he just switches around, when he eats at Elias’. 

“Yeah…Didn’t you know?” Elias says, but Sana rolls her eyes beside him, and Isak calms down a bit.

“Elias…” his mom then reprimands him with a smile, and Elias rolls his eyes too and then smirks at Isak. “I’m just messing with you, bro.”

“Oh. Phew.” Isak says in relief.

“…Or well, it _is_ haram, but I mean, you’re excused, man. You’re not Muslim. _And_ you have a broken hand.” Elias clarifies with a teasing smile.

Isak nods in understanding, “…well, thank you for the exception.”

Elias’ mom and dad both smile.

“Don’t take Elias too seriously, Isak.” Elias’ dad says with a warm smile, “…he’s the family-, what do you say-, mazzāḥ…”

“Joker.” Mikael translates, and Elias’ dad nods, “…yes. Joker. Jester. Wise guy.”

“I can see that.” Isak nods with a smirk, and Even and Mikael both snort a laugh making Elias put a dramatic, faux-offended hand on his chest. “Me? What?”

“It’s true.” Sana shrugs, “…you’re the resident _wise guy._ Just ironic that you, being a third-year and all, need Isak’s help in physics, huh?” she smirks.

Elias shrugs casually, “…well, I can’t win at everything, sis…”

“No, that’s evidently clear.” She retorts drily.

Even mutters a low “ _ouch_.”, so low only Isak can hear it over Elias struggling for a come-back, and Mikael snorting a laugh at him.

Isak quirks a smile, catching Even’s eyes in a side-glance, before digging back into his plate of tajine. 

∙

After dinner, they retreat to Elias’ room and continue working on the report, but it’s clear that the guys have run out of motivation for the day, and the conversation starts drifting to parties, music and girls.

“...Oh my God, so funny,” Elias says, slapping a hand at Isak’s shoulder, “…your friend, at the party… the blond one…”

“Magnus?” Isak says.

“Yeah… he came up to Even and asked for advice on getting chicks… amazing.” He laughs.

Isak smiles, “yeah, he’s… He doesn’t have the best luck with girls…”

“He’s cool.” Even smiles, “…he just needs to chill a bit.”

“Did you tell him that?” Isak smiles, “…because I’m not sure, Mags understands the concept of _chill_ …”

The guys all laugh at this, and then they continue talking about the party, and Elias and Mikael talk about some of the girls who were there, and Isak zones out for a moment, stealing a glance at Even, who’s looking down at his phone, thumbs moving over the screen to write a text.

Then Even looks up, and Isak just about manages to avert his eyes, looking back between Mikael and Elias, quirking a smile, pretending to listen to their talk about _those hot Foss chicks._

Eventually they stop talking about girls, and Elias changes the subject.

“Okay guys, since we’re obviously not finishing this shit today…” he waves vaguely at the excel sheet open on his laptop, “…can we meet later this week and finish it?”

“Sure. Not tomorrow though.” Mikael says.

“Thursday?” Even suggests, but Elias shakes his head, “I can’t…I got basketball practice. But what about Friday?”

Isak raises an eyebrow at that. “Friday? For real? You want to work on this shit on a _Friday_?”

Elias navigates to an open window on his laptop, quickly reading. “Well, we have to hand it in Monday at the latest, so…” he looks back at Isak, Even and Mikael, “…better to get it over with Friday and then chill in the weekend…Or? What do you guys think?” He turns to Even and Mikael, who both nod with a “sure, man.”

Even then turns to Isak. “Did you already have plans Friday?”

“Uh, no. Or, I mean, I was thinking about hitting a party…Like, it’s _Friday_.” he says in explanation, and Even smiles. “Sure, makes sense.”

“Tell you what,” Elias says clapping his hands together, “how about this; we finish this shit Friday afternoon, get something to eat, and then we hit a party…Isak, bring your boys, too. Magnus, and that other one… the cool one…”

“Jonas.” Mikael supplies, and Isak nods in affirmation. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

And it’s settled. He’s got plans Friday. Physics report first, party later.

∙

They wrap it up after that, packing laptops and textbooks back in their backpacks, and Mikael, Even and Isak all migrate to the corridor to shrug into jackets and put on shoes. They all clap Elias’ hand in goodbye, and then they bounce down the stairs and out in the fresh air, all three coming to a stop right outside the entrance door.

“Which way are you heading, Isak?” Mikael says, sticking one hand down his jacket pocket. “Uh, Grefsen.” Isak replies, zipping up his jacket.

“Okay.” Mikael nods, “I’m heading to Tøyen, so…” he comes over to clap Isak’s left hand in goodbye, smoothly slipping a little ziplock bag into his palm with a wink and an “enjoy.”

Isak looks down at the little bag of weed in his palm, while Mikael gives Even a quick hug and then unlocks his bike and sets off, riding his bike down the street with a loud “see you Friday, Isak.”

Isak stuffs the little ziplock bag in his pocket and looks up at Even.

Even rolls on the balls of his heels, his hands deep in his pockets, the hood of his hoodie pulled up over his hair. “Tram?” he asks him with a smile.

“Yes.” Isak nods, and they start walking towards the tram stop.

“So…” Even says after a few moments of silence, “…what did you think of your first day tutoring a bunch of idiots?” he side-eyes him with a smile, and Isak snorts a laugh.

“It was okay.”

“Yeah? You’re not scared off, yet?” Even asks.

“Nah, I’ve tried worse.” Isak smiles back, and Even nods.

They continue to the tram stop, and both lean against a metal rail separating the tram lane from the car lane.

Isak looks down at the pavement, thinking of something to say.

“How was, uh, your cabin trip?” he then asks, looking up at Even, immediately regretting his question, because actually, he really doesn’t want to know.

“It was good.” Even nods, but he doesn’t elaborate, and Isak is grateful for that. He so doesn’t need the details of Even’s week-long sexathon.

“That’s good.” he says back lamely.

“How was _your_ Easter holiday?” Even then asks, and Isak realizes that he has literally nothing to show for his week.

“Uh.” He says, “…it was good. Fine, I guess.”

_Basically spent the whole week thinking about you._

“Played some FIFA, went to the skatepark…blah blah blah.”

“ _Blah blah blah._ ” Even echoes with a teasing smile, and Isak smiles back sheepishly. “Yes, blah blah blah _…_ ”

“Okay.” Even nods, but then his lips quirk into a teasing smirk, eyebrows going up, as he chinpoints at Isak’s left wrist. “How about that new girlfriend? Did you find anyone yet?”

And Isak immediately flushes.

 _What the fuck_.

“Uh……”

He then realizes he’s staring dumbly at Even and he has to forcibly close his lips. “…Uh. No. Not yet.” he says weakly.

“Bummer.” Even says with a teasing smile, and Isak tries to play along. “Yeah. Counting on Friday, though.”

Even snorts a laugh. “Sure.”

They wait for the tram in silence for a few minutes, Isak stealing a couple of glances at Even before pulling his phone up to keep from _staring_. The silence between them, and Even’s soft smile, and his lips and his _everything_ , is making him flustered.

Then the tram arrives, and they board it for the short ride to Grefsen. After they jump off, they continue to Isak’s street, and as they approach his house, Isak slows his steps and they come to a stop a good ten meters from the driveway. He turns back to face Even and finds him looking at the house. Then he looks back at Isak, biting his lip for a second like searching for words. He doesn’t say anything, though.

“So.” Isak says lamely. 

“So…” Even says back. “…Can I have your number?” he pulls up his phone and unlocks it, and Isak just looks at him dumbstruck.

“My number?” he asks, eyebrows drawing together in question, already cursing himself for sounding like an idiot.

Even smiles, eyes crinkling slightly. “Yeah. So I can vipps you…For the tutoring…”

“Oh! Yes. Sure.” Isak then says and gives him his phone number, Even entering the digits in his phone.

“There.” Even smiles and pockets his phone again, “…saved you as _The Genius from Hartvig Nissen_.”

“Ha.Ha.” Isak says, rolling his eyes. “Very funny.”

Even smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners again, and it makes Isak feel funny. Definitely makes his heart beat faster.

“Goodnight, Isak.” Even then says, stepping closer, and enveloping him in a hug, and just like last time, Isak lets himself lean into the hug for a brief second. He catches a hint of cologne on Even’s neck, and the subtle citrusy smell mixing with the scent of Even’s skin almost makes him dizzy.

He pulls back a bit abruptly with a quick “bye, Even. See you Friday.” and then he turns around, beelining for his house.

∙

The moment he closes the door to his room behind him, he strides to his bed and flops down. His hand is in his boxers the second his back hits the mattress, and he sets a new personal record for how fast he can make himself come with his left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl:dr; Isak is 16 and perpetually horny. He’s obviously very attracted to Even but is not ready to fully admit that to himself; won’t allow himself to feel like that way. So, he doesn’t know how to act around Even; trying to be cool and casual, and sassy and sarcastic, but Even highkey makes him nervous. And flustered. And his dick hard.


	6. Actin' crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter took forever to write, and it's still hella random and could do with some revisions, but I needed to get it out. So hey, enjoy this 9.5k beast of randomness featuring late night texting, competitive FIFA, doodling, pre-gaming, a bike ride, parties and more tension™.

After that first tutoring session Isak starts texting a bit with Even. It’s mostly memes and YouTube links and random stuff, but Isak nevertheless has a new inclination to smile every time he sees Even’s name on his lock screen.

He even smiles when a beep from his phone wakes him up from his restless sleep Thursday night at 3 am.

* * *

**Even Bakka**

03:12

Would you rather

#1 only talk in third person or

#2 never be able to call someone by their name?

Wtf? That’s random

Rndm is awsm

Haha yeah okay. Well #2 I guess… I’d just make up nicknames for everybody.

What would my nickname be?

Dunno yet

Haha okay

Which would you choose?

#2 too. I’m on board with nicknames. Already got yours down.

The genius from Hartvig Nissen?

Yes. Or just The Genius

Ha.ha. 

Okay new one

Would you rather 

#1 Repeat the best day of your life forever or

#2 take a chance on a mix of good and bad days for the rest of your life?

Repeat one day? Like Groundhog Day?

You know Groundhog Day? With Bill Murray?

Duh. Yes.

You never cease to surprise, Isak

* * *

Isak’s heart skips a beat, as he reads Even’s words, lips quirking into a sleepy smile against his pillow.

* * *

**Even Bakka**

03:15

But which do you choose?

Uh #2 easily

What about you?

* * *

He lies awake waiting for a reply from Even for ten minutes, but no reply comes. Finally, he puts his phone under his pillow and closes his eyes, trying to go back to sleep. His heart is beating a little too fast to calm down enough to sleep, though. So, after a few minutes, he picks up his phone again and re-reads the messages a couple of times. They make him smile in the darkness of his room, but don’t exactly help to slow down his heart rate.

∙

When he wakes up at 6:30 the next morning at the blaring sound of his alarm, he’s so fucking tired, he can barely keep his eyes open. He can’t locate his phone, can only hear the obnoxious, persistent harp-melody alarm tone. Finally, he manages to dig out his phone from under his pillow, and he raises up on one elbow to squint confusedly at the flashing 06:30 on his screen, while his fuzzy brain tries to remember _why the_ _fuck_ he would set his alarm half an hour earlier than usual.

Then it dawns on him; he’s tutoring Even, Mikael and Elias after school and hitting a party with them afterwards.

His stomach does a flip at the thought of seeing Even later, and he turns off the alarm and flops back down on his back, blinking a couple of times to try to force his eyes open. Then he unlocks his phone, navigating to his text conversations to check if last night’s messages with Even actually happened. He lips quirk into a smile as he reads through them; even if the texts are super random, they still make him kinda giddy, flooding his whole body with a buzzing, restless energy he feels _everywhere_.

He puts the phone down beside him and drops his left hand to the morning wood tenting his tight boxers, definitely feeling the buzzing _there_ too. He touches himself over the thin cotton of his boxers, hips lifting slightly to push into his own hand. His heart rate picks up fast as he palms himself and then slips his hand inside, skirting his fingers up and down a few times before he closes his fist around himself and starts stroking in earnest. He tries to make his mind blank and just focus on the feeling of his hand sliding up and down, but within ten seconds his mind drifts to narrow hips, a flat chest, lips.

Full lips dropped open in an O.

He strokes himself faster, as he imagines those lips closing around his cock, sucking him off, making him wet with spit, radiant blue eyes looking up at him, as he pulls out just before he comes. He imagines painting _those lips_ with his cum; streaks of white dripping down from an indented, full bottom lip.

The image gets him desperately turned on, and a few seconds later, he tips over the edge, choking on a moan as he comes hard over his left hand.

He works himself through the orgasm, heart racing at the fantasy.

 _Those fucking lips_.

∙

After he has caught his breath, he gets up and heads to the bathroom, stepping into the shower and turning the temperature way up. He lets the scalding water cascade down his body for a few minutes before turning the temperature down just a bit. He washes his body and his hair and then steps out, dries himself off and styles his longish curls before padding back to his room with a towel around his waist.

He spends a bit of time in front of his closet, trying to pick out an outfit, finally settling on dark jeans and a green t-shirt, and grabbing an extra t-shirt and packing it in his backpack, so he can look fresh for the party later.

Before leaving the house, he makes a quick stop to the kitchen to down a glass of water, but he foregoes breakfast because he has no appetite.

A few minutes later he leaves out the door with an unanswered “bye, mom.”

With his earbuds in his ears, listening to N.W.A., he heads for the tram to school, his body buzzing like he’s had five cups of coffee.

∙

He meets Jonas in the Nissen schoolyard, and they sit through two boring English classes with Jonas drawing a couple of Illuminati triangles on his cast in red sharpie.

Right before lunch break, his phone vibrates in his pocket with a message from the group chat with Even, Elias and Mikael, and he launches into a meme-off with them.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

11:24

Elias:

Isak:[  
  
](https://www.flickr.com/photos/97713779@N02/50272240792/in/dateposted-public/)

So, what are the plans for tonight?

Mikael:

Even: Lol

Isak:

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/97713779@N02/50272070216/in/dateposted-public/)

Even:

Elias: Chill, Isak, we’ll find a party… @Mikael @Even, Isabell maybe?

Even: Yeah or Kajsa? I think she’s hosting something tonight

Elias: Oi bro, doesn’t she have a crush on you?

Even: Kajsa??

Elias: Yup

Mikael: Yup.

Elias: Anywayzzz @Isak, we’ll find a party. With plenty of chicks.

👍

* * *

He pockets his phone just before the bell rings for lunch recess, and makes his way to the cafeteria with Jonas, detouring to the counter to buy a juice box and a granola bar before joining Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas at a table.

“Yo.” He says, as he plops down. 

“Yo, Issy.” Magnus says and Mahdi gives him a left-handed fist-bump.

“So, what are we doing tonight? It’s Friday, boyyyz…” Magnus says enthusiastically, drumming his fingers on the table, and Mahdi nods, “…fucking finally. Longest fucking week…”

“I’m hitting the bowl after school, but I’m game for something later.” Jonas says before biting into a sandwich.

“Uh, I’m tutoring Even, Mikael and Elias today.” Isak says and then takes a sip of his orange juice.

“For real? On a Friday?” Jonas asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know...” Isak agrees, “…we’re probably hitting a party afterwards, though...You guys are welcome to join…”

“I was actually thinking we should go to that _Penetrators for Syria_ -party. I think it’s gonna be lit.” Magnus says around a mouthful of food.

“Okay.” Isak says, “…Well, I can ask them, but I think we’re probably gonna hit a Bakka-party, though. I mean, it’s probably gonna be three versus one in favor of Bakka.”

“Right.” Magnus nods, “…but, maybe we can meet up later?”

“Maybe.” Isak shrugs, taking a tiny bite of his granola bar, chewing it meticulously. He’s hungry, but he’s not.

Jonas takes up his phone. “…I’m gonna text Isa and ask if she’s going to the Penetrators thing.”

“Oiiii Isabellll!” Magnus says excitedly.

“She’s hot, man.” Mahdi says.

“I know.” Jonas smiles, as his fingers fly over the screen texting.

“…So, do you guys want to come to my place tonight for the pre-game?” Magnus says to Jonas and Mahdi, then turns to Isak with a smirk. “I mean, not you, Issy. You have your cool third-year Bakka-friends now…”

Isak rolls his eyes, and Jonas snorts a laugh, looking up from his phone and fixing Magnus with a stare. “You jealous or something, Mags?”

Isak’s lips quirk into a smirk at Jonas’ burn.

“Uh, _ja_ …!” Magnus says back to Jonas, “…girls love third-years…” he wraps an arm around Isak’s shoulder, “…so Isak here is probably gonna be knee-deep in Bakka-pussy tonight, while _I’m_ out there third-wheeling you and Isabel…”

Jonas laughs at that, and then Mahdi turns to look at Magnus. “Hey, I’m gonna be there too, bro. I’ll wing you.”

“Thanks, Mahdi.” Magnus replies. “You’re not a third-year, though, so… _eee_.” he grimaces.

Mahdi holds his hands out in surrender, and Isak snorts a laugh, “holy _shit_ , you’re desperate, Mags…”

“Can’t you bring the Bakka-guys to the Penetrators party?” Magnus pleads, and Isak shakes his head with a smirk.

“Nah, don’t think so. You’re on your own, man.” 

“Ugh, faen.”

“…But tell you what, I _can_ ask them, if they have some hook-up tips for you…” Isak sasses, “…text you a couple of pointers…”

Magnus enthusiastically nods. “Yes! Please! But none of that _just be yourself_ -crap.”

Isak snorts a laugh and then nods. “I’ll text you, bro.”

∙

After his classes end, Isak walks to Elias’ apartment, blasting _Fuck da Police_ on repeat in his earbuds. As he gets close to the apartment building, he slows his steps and wipes his left palm on his thigh before coming to a full stop in front of the entrance door. He takes his phone up and quits Spotify, then pulls his earbuds out of his ears and draws in a breath, carding his left hand through his curls. Then he buzzes the little button with _Bakkoush_ on it, pushes the door open with his shoulder and walks quickly up the stairs, jittery feeling returning full force.

The door to the apartment is ajar, so he steps inside, kicking off his sneakers, then hangs up his jacket. He takes another couple of deep breaths to calm the jittery feeling, then follows the sound of Even’s, Mikael’s and Elias’ voices to the living room.

And just like the last time, they’re lounging in two couches, but this time there’s a game of FIFA on the flatscreen and Mikael and Elias are clutching PlayStation controllers in their hands, huddled up in one of the couches. Even is leaning back in the other couch, his eyes on the screen. The moment Isak steps in, he looks up though, shooting him a radiant smile.

“Hey.”

Isak’s heart skips a beat, and he shoots him a half-smile back, trying hard to overcome the jittery, butterfly-y feeling spreading in his chest. “Hey.”

“Yo, man.” Mikael and Elias then say, and Isak nods back a “yo” before plopping down in the vacant seat next to Even, making sure to keep _more than a bit_ of distance. He settles his eyes on the flatscreen, watching as Elias and Mikael play for a few minutes, and Elias scores a single goal on Mikael just before the match ends.

“Can you play with your arm, Isak?” Elias asks him, after he’s done gloating over his victory.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool.” Elias nods, passing him his controller, “…Pick your team, then. I’m playing Real, Mik is Manchester City and Even is PSG.”

Isak leans forward to accept the controller, then scrunches his nose up as he half-turns to Even.

“PSG? Really?”

“Yeah…” Even says, drawing together his eyebrows with a smile, “…why are you so skeptical? What’s wrong with PSG?”

“What’s _not_ wrong with PSG?” Isak sasses back to a chorus of “oooohhh”’s from Elias and Mikael. 

“Well, who are you playing then?” Even asks with a smile.

“Barca.” Isak answers confidently.

“That’s a good team, man.” Elias says, and Mikael nods in agreement.

“Yeah…” Isak says, then arches an eyebrow, “…unlike PSG.”

“Oi!” Elias laughs, clapping his hands, “true, bro. Preach.”

“Jeez.” Even rolls his eyes with a smile, and Isak smirks before clicking on the controller, navigating to the menu and picking Barcelona. He makes a few adjustments to the player formation and then passes the controller back to Elias, who sets up a knock-out tournament.

“Okay, first match: Barca vs. PSG. You guys ready?” Elias looks over at Isak and Even.

“I was born ready, man.” Isak sasses, and Even snorts a laugh at his bravado.

“Even?” Elias asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.” Even nods with a smile, and Elias tosses them a controller each, and they launch into the match.

And it’s good. Fine, even.

Because this way, Isak has a screen to look at. A game to play. Something to keep his eyes and mind from straying to Even’s lips and his eyes and his collarbones where his sweatshirt is slouching a bit.

This way, he can channel all his focus into the game, and he even manages to take a 1-goal lead for about a minute, until Even scores a goal on him, and then they’re tied.

They match each other pretty well, but Isak is competitive as fuck, and after a few minutes they’re both on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on knees, controllers clutched in their hands, eyes fixed on the screen.

Even makes it through Isak’s defense to excited hollers from Elias and Mikael, and he makes a pass, trying to score a goal on Isak, but Isak manages to save it; frantically clicking on his controller with a “c’mon, c’mon!”

“Oiiiiii, bro, nice save!” Elias says appreciatively to Isak, and Even lets out a frustrated “ughhhhhh. Goddammit.”

Then he pauses the game, and Isak just smirks and watches, as Even navigates to the menu to change the offense formation of his team.

“So, do you regret choosing PSG yet?” Isak says with an arched eyebrow as Even clicks around in the settings, scrolling down available players for substitution.

“No.” Even says determinedly, eyes flicking over the screen, “…just gotta find a better striker…”

“Ibra not good enough for you?”

“Apparently not.” Even smiles with his eyes still on the screen.

“Whaaat?” Elias pipes up from the other couch, “…Ibra is boss, man…”

“Yeah well, I’m just looking for something different, I guess…” Even says back, eyes still on the screen as he clicks around.

“Yo, I don’t think Ibra is the problem, bro…” Mikael supplies, and Isak snorts a laugh at that.

Even clicks around a bit more, and Isak starts tapping his fingers on his controller faux-impatiently. “Is it gonna today, or…?”

Even half-turns to him with a smirk and an eyebrow raise, “…Jeez, impatient much?”

“…Impatient to beat your ass, yeah.” Isak says with a shrug.

Even snorts a laugh at that and finally settles on substituting Zlatan Ibrahimovic with Cavani.

“Ready?” Isak asks with a raise of an eyebrow, and Even nods, eyes intense on Isak’s. “Let’s go.”

∙

Ten intense minutes later, just before the match ends, Isak finally manages to score a winning goal on Even, and Even leans his head back on the couch’s headrest with a “noooooo!”

“Yesssssssss!” Isak says triumphantly, and Mikael gives him a lefthanded fist-bump and a “nice, man.” over the coffee table.

“Thanks.” Isak smiles and then turns to Even, who has snapped his head back up. “Good game, though.” he says as a peace offering, and Even takes it with a smile. “Yeah, thanks. You too.”

Isak gives him a single nod and a smile and then leans back, settling against the couch cushions to watch as Elias and Mikael launch into a match.

And he tries to focus on the screen, he really does, but now that he’s not playing himself, his concentration falters, and his mind starts straying.

They’re barely two minutes in, before his eyes drift to the side and settle on Even; his lips are pursed in a little pout as he watches the screen, and Isak swallows drily, as his body reacts in an almost Pavlovian reaction to _those fucking lips_ that have been occupying his fantasies for the last days. Well, weeks. Months even, if he’s being honest.

He feels a throb of arousal in his groin, then-

“Yesssssssssssss! Karim Benzema, my _brother_!”

Elias’ loud yell, as he scores against Mikael, pulls Isak’s eyes back to the screen. 

“Pffftttt, lucky.” Mikael scoffs.

“Hah, you just can’t handle me winning, Mik.” Elias says, reaching a hand into Mikael’s hair and ruffling it.

“Chill bro, you haven’t won yet.” Mikael says drily, moving his head out of reach, and they resume the match.

Isak settles his eyes back on the screen and tries to concentrate on Elias’ and Mikael’s match. But like an invisible tether, his eyes stray to Even again.

This time, Even looks straight back at him, and Isak’s breath catches in his throat.

Instinctively, like being caught, he flicks his eyes back to the screen, heart going wild in his chest.

∙

Twenty minutes later, Elias wins the little tournament, defeating an unfocused Isak in a 4-2 Real Madrid vs. Barcelona finale.

“ _That_ right there is how you do it, guys.” He says triumphantly, and Isak leans forward putting his controller on the coffee table in front of him with a “congrats, man. Good game.”

“Thanks. You played pretty well too, though.” Elias says appreciatively, “…Better than these two,” he nods at Mikael and Even, “…Broken wrist and all.”

“Hah, yeah thanks.” Isak says over minor protests from Even and Mikael, and then they all four launch into a discussion about their respective teams and the Champions League quarter finals next week.

∙

After a bit of discussion, Elias brings them all back on track with a “…So, anyway guys, that physics report…”

“Ugh.” Mikael moans, and Even leans his head back on the couch’s head rest, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he groans out a “nope.”

“Uh, _yes_.” Elias says.

“Hey, I warned you guys about working on a fucking physics report on a Friday…” Isak says with a shrug.  
  
“True.” Elias nods. “...But I mean, how long can it take? Look,” he says, turning to Even and Mikael, “…we’ll finish the fucking thing and then we’ll chill and light up. Deal?”

Even and Mikael reluctantly agree and they all four migrate to Elias’ room, settling around his desk and pulling up their laptops to finish the lab report on _Coke Bottle Resonance_.

And Isak sends a silent thanks to whatever non-existing gods, that the “lab” part of the report is over, because honestly, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to sit through another round of Even quasi-blowing a coke bottle. Especially not today, where his body is so jittery and on edge already, courtesy of a latent horniness combined with lack of sleep. 

Thankfully it’s only calculations and excel sheets now, and after giving the guys a quick explanation of the cavity resonance expression, Isak basically leans back with his phone, idly scrolling random stuff, while the guys discuss a bit among themselves and continue plotting results.

Some ten minutes in, he notices Even’s leg bounce under the table, where he’s sitting next to him, their knees almost touching. He glances over at Even’s laptop and sees him working on what looks like a storyboard in a sketch software instead of working in Excel. He watches Even for a few moments, then gets the weird feeling that he’s somehow spying on him, so he turns back to his phone and scrolls Reddit with his left hand, while he does a few flex-and-extend exercises with his casted right arm. Then he rests it back down on the table and wiggles his fingers.

Even looks up from his screen.

“How’s your arm doing?” he asks with a nod at his cast.

“Uh, fine… Just gets a bit sore, when I game too much.”

Even nods. “When is the cast coming off?”

“Next week.” Isak replies, scratching along the corners of the cast, where the skin is starting to feel itchy. 

Mikael also looks up from his screen.

“Dude, you should’ve picked a flashy color, though. Like purple or pink or something…would’ve been way cooler.” he says, and Isak looks down at the greyish cast and the couple of red Illuminati triangles Jonas drew today.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“…Can I draw on it?” Even then asks. “…Make it flashy for the last week?” he smiles brightly, and Isak’s lips quirk into a smile on their own accord, mirroring Even.

“Sure.”

“Yeah?” Even asks, and Isak pulls a shrug, going for nonchalant even though his heart rate is quickly picking up just from Even smiling at him.

“Yeah, I mean, why not.”

“Okay.” Even smiles and takes up a black sharpie from his backpack. He pulls the cap off and leans in.

“You know what, I’m just gonna draw a bunch of dicks…” he then says with a quick eyebrow up-and-down and a smirk, and Mikael snorts a laugh from the other end of the table.

“Oi, nei.” Isak says, pulling his arm off the table, cradling it to his chest.

“Chill, I’m just kidding. I’m not gonna draw a bunch of dicks…” Even says with a crinkly-eyed smile, and Isak tentatively rests his arm back down on the table, watching closely as Even touches the marker to the cast.

“No dicks.” He says in warning.

“Got it. No dicks.” Even smiles, eyes on the cast as he starts drawing.

Isak nods and tries to be casual and not think of dicks and just _be casual_ and focus on not moving his arm.

But with Even leaning in, the subtle smell of his cologne wafting up from his sweatshirt, the thought of his warm skin underneath and the sight of his fingers splaying over the cast to hold his arm steady while he draws, Isak feels anything but casual. His heart is beating so hard, he starts to wonder if Even can hear it.

He probably can’t. Or, maybe he _can_ and doesn’t let Isak know. Either way, he seems concentrated on the cast, starting out with intricate graphic patterns, even incorporating one of Jonas’ Illuminati triangles into a larger pattern, before gently flipping Isak’s arm over and outlining a large stylized flower down the inside of his wrist, stretching up to where the cast ends. It looks cool. Really cool. Kinda like a tattoo sleeve.

“…Okay, so, the results are all plotted, and I used that math software to create a model or function or whatever it’s called… what now…?” Elias then asks, making Isak finally look up from his cast and over at Elias.

“Uh,” he says dumbly, as he tries to shift his focus back to the lab report. “…Let me see.”

Elias shows him his screen, and Isak takes his time looking at the linear model, then he nods. “Great, yeah, looks good. Now you just need a concluding paragraph about how the data is a decent approximation for a straight line, and how that fits with the expression for cavity resonance, suggesting that the frequency of the tones is inversely proportional to the square root of the volume of the bottle.”

“Inverse-… _what_?” Elias then asks, and Isak launches into a slightly more detailed and instructive version of what he just told him.

“Oh. Okay.” Elias and Mikael both eventually nod and turn back to their laptops. Even makes no move to turn back to his laptop though, or to be even remotely interested in the report. He just continues drawing on Isak’s cast, and Isak thinks about it for a second; how it’s kinda weird, that Even was the one who suggested tutoring but now seems to be the least interested and concentrated of the guys.

He looks down at his arm, just as Even draws a tiny dick on his wrist, shooting him a side-glance and a smirk.

“Oi, watch it!” he warns him faux-sternly, and then Even smiles, incorporating the dick into a pattern, making it unrecognizable.

Isak’s stomach does a weird lurch.

∙

Fifteen minutes later, his cast is completely filled out with Even’s drawings. No dicks, though.

Even has turned back to his own laptop and Isak has returned to his phone, texting Magnus fake hook-up advice in the group chat to see if he buys it.

Then Elias breaks the silence of the room with an enthusiastic “there. Shit, I think we’re done.”

“Yeah?” Isak asks, pocketing his phone and Elias shoves his laptop over to him for a read-through.

Isak reads the report thoroughly, nodding along the way and making a few clarifications. Then he pushes the laptop back to Elias with a “Yup. It’s done.”

“Mashallah!” Elias says loudly, dramatically leaning all the way back in his chair, and Mikael slams his own laptop shut with a “thank _fuck_.”

Even drums his fingers on the table. “Nice. Can we put music on now?”

“Sure, bro.” Elias says, standing up to crack his neck and then opening his window to let in fresh air.

Mikael reaches into his backpack, pulling up a ziplock bag of weed and starts rolling up, while Even connects his laptop to the wireless speaker on Elias’ desk, clicking around on Spotify a bit before settling on a song.

“Nice!” Mikael says appreciatively, moving his head to the beat, dark curls dancing around his jaw. “ _Why_ _you think I’m out here actin’ crazy_ …” he sings along as his fingers work fast to roll a joint.

Isak listens for a second, recognizing the vocals. “It’s Action Bronson, right?” he asks Even.

Even nods with a smile, blue eyes radiant on Isak’s.

Mikael is quick to roll up, sealing the joint with a lick, and then he lights up and takes a couple of drags before passing the joint to his right to Elias, who takes a deep drag, inhaling the smoke.

“Looks cool, bro.” He says to Even on an exhale, nodding at Isak’s cast.

“Thanks.” Even says.

“…Definitely flashy.” Mikael nods.

“…Yo, have you pulled any chicks with your cast yet?” Elias then asks Isak, taking another drag of the joint, before passing it to him. “…I mean, it must be a pretty good conversation starter.”

“Uh, no. Not really.” Isak answers, bringing the joint to his lips.

“…Not even a pity fuck?” Elias asks.

Isak arches an eyebrow at him, inhaling the smoke. “Dude, I don’t want a pity fuck…”

He catches Even looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“You don’t?” Elias asks incredulously.

“Not really, no.” Isak says back with a gap-toothed smile, the weed already starting to take effect, making him loose and relaxed, jittery feeling finally subsiding a bit.  
He passes the joint to Even, watching for a second as he brings it to his lips and takes a drag.

“I’d gladly take a pity fuck, man…” Mikael muses.  
  
“Yeah, me too.” Elias agrees, “...A fuck is a fuck.”

Even snorts a laugh at that. “ _A fuck is a fuck?!_ Wow, you two are really setting the bar high there…”

“Yeah well…” Elias shrugs, “…we can’t all be romantics and get pussy on the regular like you, bro.”

“Some of us actually have to work for it.” Mikael says to Even, who quirks a smile and shrugs.

Then there’s a beep, and Even pulls up his phone from his jeans pocket, casting a glance at the screen, raising his eyebrows slightly. Then he waves his phone at the guys. “…Speaking of…”

“Nooooo! Sonja? Seriously?” Elias asks wide-eyed and Even nods.

“Holy shit, that’s random.” Elias snorts a laugh at the coincidence, “…she got wires on you or something?”

“I fucking hope not.” Even mutters before he unlocks his phone and starts texting.

“ _Wires_ …” Mikael shakes his head with a chuckle, turning to Elias. “…Weed always makes you paranoid, bro…”

“Yeah, maybe,” Elias shrugs, “…but like, it’s Sonja, so you never know…”

Isak watches as Even texts a bit, then throws his head back in frustration, snapping it back up to resume texting.

“What’s up, Ev?” Mikael asks at Even’s obvious frustration before taking another drag of the joint.

“Ugh. Nothing.” Even says with his eyes on the screen. There’s a beat of silence, and Isak kinda expects him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, okay, wait a sec…I think I got it.” Elias says, leaning forward to change the music on Even’s laptop. He cranks the volume up and raps along;

“ _If you’re having girl problems I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one. Hit me!”_ Elias raps, and Isak and Mikael both snort a laugh.

Even looks up from his phone and rolls his eyes with a smile.

“…For real though” Elias says, “…you may be getting regular pussy and all bro, but I for one am happy to be single and not have to deal with _relationship problems_ or whatever _that…_ ” he waves his hand at Even’s phone, “…is.”

Even worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a second, sighing a “yeah.” Then he turns back to his phone, thumbs flying over his screen texting.

Isak notices that he doesn’t deny the _relationship problems_.

“Amirite, guys?” Elias then says to Isak and Mikael, and they both agree.

“Single life, man.” Mikael says fist-bumping Elias.

“Yup.” Isak nods in agreement, the three-week thing with Sara his only experience with _relationships_ , but yeah, he’ll definitely take being single over _that_.

“We’ll hook you up tonight though, bro.” Elias says to Isak, “…get you a non-pity, non-sympathy fuck or whatever.”

“A _zero-sympathy fuck_?” Isak says, then snorts a laugh at himself, because _wow_ , he’s already high as hell.

“A hate-fuck?!” Mikael says, clearly just as high, and Even pockets his phone, joining back into the conversation with a smirk and his eyebrows raised. “…Uh, that sounds kinda unpleasant.”

“Mhmm.” Isak nods in agreement, and Elias and Mikael crack a laugh.

“Could also be kinda hot, though.” Elias muses, “…like haven’t you guys tried fucking a chick after a huge argument?” he turns to Even, “…bro, back me up here. I know you and Sonja do that.”

“You know I don’t kiss and tell, man.” Even replies with a shrug, and even though the weed is somewhat dulling his senses and his libido, Isak still can’t stop his mind from going _there_ ; imagining Even having passionate hate sex. 

He zones out for a moment until Elias leans forward passing him a new joint, that he definitely didn’t notice being rolled.

“You’re from ’99 right, Isak?” Elias asks, as he passes him the joint.

“Uh huh.” He replies, taking a drag before passing the joint to Even.

Elias half-turns to Even and Mikael. “So, 99’ers… Julie, maybe? Or, Iben…?”

“What about that blonde chick from 1.stb?” Mikael says to Elias.

“Amalie? Shit yeah, she’s hot…” Elias replies, and Isak again zones out for a moment as Elias and Mikael launch into a discussion about the hottest first-years at Bakka.

He drops his eyes to his cast and looks at the intricate patterns, spotting a miniature comic strip on the inside of his wrist. It looks like a cartoon version of himself and Even; a speech bubble with random math expressions over cartoon-Isak’s head and a thought bubble with musical notes over cartoon-Even’s head.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, trying to decipher what Even means by the comic.

When he looks up, he finds Even looking back at him with a little smile on his lips.

“…do you like blondes, Isak?”

Elias’ voice brings him back, and he mentally shakes his head.

“Huh? Blondes? Uh, sure. Yeah.”

“…Or do you prefer brunettes?” Elias continues, flipping his phone in his hand.

“Nah, I don’t really, uh, have a preference.” Isak says, because _I really don’t, man. Like,_ really _._

“Okay.” Elias nods, seemingly satisfied with his answer, “…I’m gonna try to find us a party…” he says, unlocking his phone.

Isak just nods.

“What’s _your_ squad doing tonight, Isak?” Mikael asks before taking another drag of the joint while Elias texts.

“Uh, probably going to a Nissen party…I told them they could join us, but they were keen on going to this Penetrators-party…”

“ _Penetrators_?” Even asks, eyebrows drawing together in question.

“Ugh, yeah… they’re this third-year Nissen russe-crew…” Isak explains, “…with a stupid fucking name.”

“Okay.” Even nods with a smile. “…Well, we can join that party if you want to…?” he says, and Mikael nods in agreement. “Sure. Same for me.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Isak says. “…Magnus would probably be all over you guys…” He takes a drag of the joint, as Mikael passes it to him. “…He thinks hanging out with third-years will attract chicks and help him get laid…”

Mikael snorts a laugh at that, and Even just looks back at him, raising his eyebrows with a smile. ”Seriously?”

“Mhmm.” Isak smiles, “…I joked that I’d ask you guys for pointers on hooking-up and text them to him. But I think he’s, like, _actually_ expecting some tips.”

Even cracks a laugh. “Wow, I feel like the pressure is on now.”

“Pftt dude, can’t we just text him some of your old pick-up lines from 9th grade?” Mikael smirks at Even, and Isak quirks an eyebrow in interest.

Even frowns slightly, smiling at Mikael. “I used to have pick-up lines? Shit.”

Mikael doesn’t get to answer, before Elias joins back into the conversation with a triumphant smirk. “…There. Found us a party.” he says, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “…Kajsa is hosting a party in Løkka. Adam and Mutta are meeting us there.”

“Cool.” Mikael and Even say, and Isak nods.

“Yeah, I just told her Even was coming, so…” Elias smirks, then he looks over at Even. “Bro, she’s got such a crush on you… I mean, if it doesn’t work out with Sonja…” he winks at Even, who just rolls his eyes. “Dude.”

“I’m just saying, you got options, man.” Elias says, and Even shakes his head lightly with a smile. “Yeah, thanks.”

And Isak suddenly remembers Magnus’ words about Even.

> _“He’s really cool and good-looking, he probably has tons of chicks crushing on him.”  
>   
> _

_Yup._

∙

A couple of hours and joints later, they are all four getting ready to head out to the party, Dr. Dre streaming through the speaker as Isak changes into the fresh t-shirt he packed in his backpack this morning.

Elias takes a quick shower and comes back to his room wearing only a pair of boxers, cut abs on full display. Still, it’s Even pulling his t-shirt off by the collar, and putting on a crisp white one, that catches Isak’s eyes.

The quick glimpse of Even’s flat chest and his sharp hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his jeans more than enough to make his palms sweaty and his heart beat faster, despite the weed dulling his senses.

“…Hey let’s hit Bislett Kebab in Løkka on the way for dinner, yeah?” Elias suggests, pulling on a sweatshirt, and they all agree and migrate to the corridor to put on sneakers and jackets.

“Are we biking, or?” Mikael asks, shrugging into a white Adidas jacket.

“Uh, I’m on foot.” Isak says, raising his casted arm for emphasis.

“Right. Of course.” Mikael says, zipping up his jacket.

“…but I can just take the tram and meet you there or whatever…” Isak says with a shrug, as he toes into his sneakers.

“Or, you can ride with me on my bike…” Even says easily as he puts on a denim jacket, looking directly at Isak.

“Uh…” Isak falters for a second.

It’s nothing. He’s gotten a ride on the rack of Jonas’ bike to or from parties lots of times. So, yeah. Nothing.

He clears his throat. “…Yeah, sure. Okay.” He finally nods.

“Okay?” Even smiles up at him as he ties the laces on his Nikes.

“Mhmm, yeah.” Isak says. ”…Just don’t crash the bike or anything…” he says with an arched eyebrow.

Even snorts a laugh. “Chill. I’m not gonna crash the bike.”

“You fucking better not.” Isak says and then they’re all four walking out the door, bouncing down the stairs to the street.

After unlocking his bike, Even steers it over to him with a hand on the saddle, coming to a stop next to him with a smile.

“Your ride, princess…”

“Oi. Don’t call me that.” Isak says.

“No, you’re right.” Even smirks, “…you’re way too low-maintenance to be a princess…”

Isak rolls his eyes, a slight blush creeping up. “Whatever.” He says back lamely, straddling over the metal rack on the back of the bike.

Even gets on the bike too and turns back to look at him over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.” Isak confirms with a nod and Even kicks off, and rides down the street, catching up to Elias and Mikael by a red light.

They ride for a few minutes, then Isak’s wrist starts to hurt from holding onto the metal underneath him in a weird angle.

At the next red light, he stretches his hand out, flexing his fingers. Even turns back to look at him, sending him a smile. “You good?”

“Yeah, just… my arm hurts a bit. From holding on.”

“Oh…” Even says, then pulls a little shrug. “…You can hold on to me, if it helps…?”

“Uh, yeah, okay. Thanks.” Isak says, and tentatively places his hands on Even’s shoulders, splaying his fingers over the coarse denim of his jacket.

It helps.

∙

They stop by Bislett kebab to wolf down kebabs and fries, and then they continue to a supermarket to buy beer.

“Yo, can you buy a six-pack for me, bro?” Elias asks Even, as they jump off their bikes and lean them against the building.

“Sure.” Even says.

“I thought alcohol was haram…?” Isak says to Elias with a smirk. 

“Yeah. But y’know...” Elias shrugs, “…I like to party. I’m not _buying_ it, though.”

“Right.” Isak smiles at Elias’ logic.

“Can you buy for me tooooo?” Mikael pleads, shooting Even puppy dog eyes.

“Of course.” Even smiles back at Mikael, then he turns to Isak, nodding at the supermarket’s entrance. “Join me?”

“Sure.” Isak nods, following Even as he walks into the supermarket.

Inside, they head straight to the beers, picking up two six-packs each, and then they head to the register.

Isak doubles back for two cans of Red Bull, catching up to Even at the register.

“Tired?” Even smiles, nodding at the Red Bull in his hands.

“Uh, yeah.” Isak admits, thinking back to how he’d laid awake for at least half an hour last night after Even stopped texting him.

“Aren’t you?” he asks back, placing the Red Bull next to the beers on the belt.

“Not really.” Even smiles, picking up a pack of cigarettes and a pack of gum and placing it on the belt too.

“Huh.” Isak says dumbly, watching as Even flashes his ID-card and then swipes his credit card to pay for everything before packing the six-packs, the cigarettes and one of the Red Bulls in his backpack, sticking the pack of gum in his jeans pocket.

He hands Isak the other can of Red Bull with a smile, and Isak cracks it open with a “thanks, I’ll vipps you back for this…and the kebab…”

“No worries.” Even smiles as they head to the exit.

∙

Ten minutes later, they pull up to a large house in a residential area; loud music streaming out through the open windows.

Isak jumps off Even’s bike, and after Even, Elias and Mikael have parked their bikes, they all make their way up the driveway.

Elias stops halfway though and turns to Even.

“Hey bro, did you bring cologne? I forgot to put it on…Gotta smell good for the ladies…”

“Yeah yeah, I got you.” Even smiles, sliding his backpack off one shoulder, zipping it open and drawing up a little opaque bottle, passing it to Elias, who spritzes it on his neck, before passing the bottle back to Even with a “thanks, bro.” and they continue up the driveway to the house.

As Elias passes him walking inside the house, Isak recognizes Even’s cologne on him, but he also notices how it somehow doesn’t smell the same on Elias as it does on Even. At all. 

∙ 

Inside, a short girl with artfully done braids greets them, hugging first Elias and Mikael and then raising up on her tiptoes to hug Even.

“Eveeeeennnnn!” she slurs drunkenly, greeting him with french-style cheek kisses.

“Hey Kajsa.” Even smiles back, “…thanks for the invite.” then he gestures to Isak, “...this is Isak.”

“Hi Isak.” She says with a smile and Isak gives her a curt nod and smile back. “hey. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course.” She smiles, “…a friend of Even’s is a friend of mine.”

“Cool.” Isak nods, and after a bit of small talk, he follows Elias, Mikael and Even inside to the kitchen, where Even takes up the six-packs from his backpack and puts them in the fridge.

“Dude, she 100 percent has a crush on you…” Elias smirks, jerking his head towards the door. 

“No, I don’t think so. We’re friends.” Even says, as he breaks four beer cans free, passing them out to Elias, Mikael and Isak.

“Keep telling yourself that, bro.” Mikael says with a smirk before pulling the beer can open.

Even is about to retort, when Mutta and Adam join them in the kitchen with excited hollers. “Yoooooo! When did you guys get here?”

“Like 2 minutes ago, bro.” Elias smiles back, as he claps Mutta’s hand. “You remember Isak, right?”

“Sure.” Mutta and Adam both nod. “Hey, man”

“Hey.” Isak says, pulling his beer open with his left hand.

“How’s your arm, bro?” Mutta then asks with a nod at his cast.

“Uh, better, thanks.” Isak says, lifting the can to his lips and taking a sip of beer.

“…and flashier.” Adam says, eyeing the drawings on his cast.

“That too.” Isak smiles, setting the can back down and sending Even a quick look. Even smiles back at him.

∙

Some twenty minutes later, after the Bakka-boys have scattered a bit to talk to different people, and the girl from before, Kajsa, has high-jacked Even to talk and what looks a lot like flirting, Elias comes up to Isak, slinging an arm around his shoulders. He smells like weed and Even’s cologne.

“So… see anything you like?”

Isak’s eyes subconsciously stray across the room to where Even is leaning against the wall talking to Kajsa, his white t-shirt stretching tightly over his chest and his shoulders. He looks hot. Like, really hot.

“…Just point out a chick, and I’ll introduce you…You know, being a third-year has its perks.” Elias continues, looking out at the mass of dancing bodies.

And it must be the residual effect of the weed he smoked a few hours ago fucking with his inhibitions, because Isak actually allows himself to check Even out for a moment before turning back to Elias, schooling his features into a smirk.

“Nah, bro, I’m good. Don’t need your help pulling chicks.”

“Oiii! Okay.” Elias chuckles, and as if on cue, a pretty blonde girl comes up to them with a bright smile.

“Hey. Isak right?”

Elias widens his eyes for a second, then he walks off with a smirk and a “see you later, Isak.” leaving Isak with the girl.

“Uh, yes, I’m Isak...” Isak squints suspiciously at the girl, “…How do you kno-“

“We met at a party like two weeks ago. You go to Nissen, right?”

“Yeah…?” Isak says, racking his brain trying to remember the girl. Then he vaguely remembers talking to her at what was apparently Elias’ bus party a few weeks ago. The one where he agreed to tutor Even and the other guys. He barely remembers talking to her, but apparently, she remembers him.

“I’m Amalie. In case you’ve forgotten.” She smiles at him, and he offers her a half-smile. “Right, yeah. No, I remember you.” He lies.

She smiles and looks down at his cast. “Cool drawings.”

Isak looks down at Even’s intricate patterns and then back up at her. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Did you draw them yourself?” she asks.

“Uh, no, I’m right-handed, so…”

“Right, okay.” She laughs flirtingly. “…How did you break your arm?”

“I skated down the Opera House…” he says with a shrug.

“Seriously?” she smiles. “Were you drunk or something?”

“Uh huh.” Isak admits. “…so fuckin’ high, too.”

“Oh! Okay.” She says with a giggle, looking at him like he’s the coolest ever. “…so, do you have weed by any chance?”

“Uh, not right now, no. Sorry.” He says.

“Oh. Bummer.” She smiles.

“Yeah.” he says dismissively, as his eyes stray to Even across the room for a moment.

“So, are you friends with Elias and Even and those guys?” she says, following his line of sight.

“Uh, yeah.” Isak says, because he thinks so. Kinda? If it was just a tutoring gig, they probably wouldn’t have invited him to come along to a party. So, friends-ish.

“Cool.” She smiles, and Isak nods.

Another blonde girl, one of her friends apparently, comes by then, pulling on her hand with a “c’mon Amalie, it’s Justin! We _have_ to dance!”, and Isak recognizes some Justin Bieber song playing loudly in the next room.

“Talk to you later, Isak…” Amalie giggles, and he gives her a little salute, as she lets herself be dragged off to the dancefloor by a girl, who reminds Isak of Vilde from Nissen. Definitely some of the same resoluteness going on. He quirks a smile at the thought of Vilde’s doppelganger, and then looks out over the dancefloor.

As he scans the dance floor, he catches Even looking back at him, pulling out a cigarette from behind his ear and putting it between his lips with an eyebrow raise. Then he jerks his head in the direction of the front door. Isak nods and makes his way across the room to the door.

∙

He meets Even outside in the garden, and Even pulls up a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handing it to him with a smile.

_Smoking, right._

“Thanks.” Isak says, pulling one up and putting it between his lips. He lets Even lean in and light it for him.

“So…” Even inhales, “…you and that blonde girl?”

“Hm?”

“I saw you with, uh…” Even thinks, a frown appearing between his eyebrows, smiling at Isak, “…uh, blonde hair, pretty…”

“Oh. Yeah. Amalie, I think.”

Even nods. “Right.”

“Yeah, she liked your artwork, by the way…” Isak says, nodding at his cast.

“Cool.” Even smiles, taking a drag of his cigarette. He blows out the smoke, then looks directly at Isak, blue eyes intense in the darkness of the garden. “Do _you_ like it, though?”

“Uh, yeah.” Isak says. “Yeah, it’s cool. You’re pretty good at drawing.”

“You think so?” Even says, eyes crinkling.

“Mhmm.” Isak smiles.

“Thanks.” Even says, his eyes lingering on Isak’s for a moment, and Isak has that weird lurching feeling in his stomach again.

“Do you like her?” Even then asks, chin-pointing in the direction of the house.

“Uh, Amalie?” Isak asks dumbly, and Even nods.

“Sure. She’s… hot.” Isak says, hating how hollow the words sound to his own ears. “I think she likes Justin Bieber though, so…” he grimaces, and Even cracks a laugh at that. “And you don’t, I’m guessing?”

“Uh, _no_.” Isak says surely. Then “do you?”

“Nei.” Even says with a little shake of his head, and Isak lets out a “okay. Phew.”

Even gives him another crinkly-eyed smile.

∙

After finishing the second cigarette, they head back to the house, and Even pulls up his pack of gum, popping a piece in his mouth.

“You want one?” he smiles.

“Sure, thanks.” Isak says, and Even takes out another one, handing it to Isak, who pops it into his mouth, synthetic strawberry taste spreading over his tongue. They hit the kitchen in search of beers, but they’ve barely made it inside, before two girls come up to them. Isak recognizes one of them from the pictures on Even’s Facebook-profile.

Sonja. Even’s girlfriend.

“Sonja, hey!” Even says, sounding surprised.

“Hey, baby.” Sonja says, reaching up to kiss Even, one of her arms curling around his neck.

“Hey Elise.” Even then says, hugging the other blonde girl.

“This is, uh, Isak.” he says. “…he’s tutoring me and the guys in physics.”

“Oh, right.” Sonja says, looking at Isak. “Hi, I’m Sonja. Even’s girlfriend.” She stretches her hand out to him, and he shakes it.

“Hei. Isak. Nice to meet you.”

“Hey. I’m Elise.” The other girl says, stretching her hand out to him.

“Isak.”

“What, uh, are you doing here?” Even then asks, carding a hand through his hair, swiping a couple of rogue strands away from his face. “I thought you were at Anna’s…?”

“Missed you.” Sonja says sweetly, then pulls on his hand, dragging him towards the other room, where the music is playing loudly. “…Come dance with me?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” Even says and he follows Sonja into the other room, casting a quick look back at Isak over his shoulder.

“So…” Elise says, smiling at Isak. “…what year are you in? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Uh.” Isak says dumbly, forcing himself to look at her and not at Even’s retreating back. “Uh, no, I go to Nissen. First year.”

“You’re a first-year?” she asks incredulously, “…and you’re tutoring third-years in physics? That’s boss.”

“Yeah, well.” Isak shrugs nonchalantly, smirking at her praise.

“No, but that’s really cool.” she says, and they start talking about school, and the fact that she’s sat next to Even and Mikael in physics class all year, and neither of them understand anything. He quirks a smile at that.

Then she pulls up a bottle of tequila from her bag and pours up a couple of shots, handing Isak one of them with a “here’s to you actually knocking some knowledge into those guys.”

“ _Trying_.” Isak corrects, and they down the shots at the kitchen counter, both grimacing at the taste.

“Shit, that’s bad…!” she says, and Isak agrees with a smile. “That was quite bad, yeah.”

“Let’s do another one.”

“Okay.”

After downing the second shot, she smiles at him and asks him if he wants to dance and he shrugs, because _yeah, fuck it_ , following her out of the kitchen.

They make it to the packed dance floor, just as the music changes to some Major Lazer song that Isak hates with a vengeance. So, he dances half-heartedly, all too aware of how awkward he feels. All too aware that Even might see him and his terrible dance moves. He fucking hopes that tequila kicks in soon, because the weed and couple of beers he’s had have definitely worn off by now.

Elise just smiles at him as she moves her body, and to her defense, she actually seems pretty cool and down-to-earth, and she makes Isak smile at her quirky electric boogie-moves. Then she pulls on his hand, and they both crack a laugh as he awkwardly twirls her around and she almost crashes into his chest.

Then the music changes to a slow, dragging beat, and she moves closer, and Isak tentatively places his hands on her hips.

“…You’re cute.” She smiles up at him, and they dance together to the dragging bass-heavy beat. She leans into his chest, and Isak looks out over the dancefloor. He sees Even dancing with Sonja across the room, slowly swaying together to the slow, sexy beat.

Even looks a bit sweaty; his white t-shirt is clinging to his chest, strands of hair falling into his face. Both his arms are slung around Sonja’s hips, one hand splayed over the small of her back. Then she cranes her neck for a kiss, and they start making out.

Isak swallows drily, as he watches. It’s almost too intimate, like he’s perving on them. Still, he can’t take his eyes away.

A few seconds later, Even opens his eyes and looks straight back at him, his lips still on Sonja’s, and Isak’s stomach drops. There’s an immediate pang of arousal shooting straight to his dick.

He swallows drily, but he can’t look away.

His eyes stay fixed on Even, as he makes out with Sonja, and he’s still watching when the song ends, and Sonja pulls on Even’s hand with a seductive smirk, dragging him out of the room with her.

∙

Half a minute later, Isak excuses himself and leaves Elise on the suffocatingly hot dancefloor to head outside to gulp down cool air, and to discreetly readjust himself in his jeans. He takes deep breaths to slow his racing heart, then pulls up his phone to look busy in case someone wonders what the fuck he’s doing outside alone.

After a few minutes’ worth of mindless scrolling and _breathing_ , he heads back inside, beelining to the kitchen for a cold beer. He has just pulled it open and is taking a long swig, when Elias and Mikael walk into the kitchen.

“Yo!” Elias says, “…have you seen Even, bro?”

“Uh, no.” Isak says, wiping the beer off his lips with the back of his hand.

“Well, from the way he and Sonja were making out, I’d say it’s very likely they’ve gone somewhere to fuck…” Mikael says to Elias, taking out a beer from the fridge and pulling it open.

“Oh,” Elias nods, “okay…so they solved their problems…?”

Mikael shrugs, taking a sip. “I guess. Looked that way.”

“Okay.” Elias says, then turns to Isak. “What about you, Isak? Getting lucky tonight?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugs, and Elias hollers an “oiii! Sweet. Amalie or Elise?”

“Dunno yet.” Isak says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Wow, you’re a player, bro.” Elias laughs before pulling open a beer.

∙

As soon as Elias and Mikael leave the kitchen, Isak picks up the last of his six-pack and a can of Red Bull from the fridge, finds his jacket in the corridor and leaves.

He walks a couple of blocks towards the tram, then pulls up his phone to shoot Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi a message in the group chat.

* * *

**The Crew**

23:12

Yo are you guys still at that Penetrators thing?

Jonas: Yeah. Aren’t you at some Bakka party??

No. It was a bust. I’m coming over.

Jonas: Okay. See you Iss

Magnus: Yaaaasss

* * *

With N.W.A. playing loudly in his earbuds and sipping from a Red Bull, it’s a relatively short walk to the Penetrators party. He makes his way inside, looking for Jonas, Magnus or Mahdi, shrugging off his jacket, but he barely gets out of it, before Eva comes stumbling into him with a drunken “Isaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkk! You’re here!”

“Evaaa.” He says half-heartedly, catching her reeling.

“So good to see you...” She slurs.

“Yeah. You too.” He says distractedly as he scans the crowd for Jonas, Mahdi or Magnus.

“…I miss you! We never see each other anymore.”

“No?” he says, trying to steady her.

“No.” she pouts, leaning against his chest. Then she looks up at him with a drunk smile. “I like you so much, you know? You’re so sweet. Hey, did you know Jonas has a new girlfriend? She’s a third-year…”

Isak just nods, awkwardly hugging her, as she slumps against him. Then she cranes her neck up and starts kissing his cheek.

“Uh, no. Let’s… _not_ do that.” He says, when she goes for his lips.

“Whaat? Don’t you want to kiss me?” she says with another pout.

“Uh no, let’s just drop it.”

“Is it… Is it because you like boys?” she drops her voice to a slurred whisper. “...Like, are you _gay_?”

Isak feels his heart skip a beat.

“Huh? No…” he says weakly, and then Noora shows up, disentangling Eva’s arms from his waist and dragging her off with a “...sorry. She’s _very_ drunk.”

He nods and turns around, feeling his heart in his throat. Then he takes a breath and determinedly crosses the room, walking up to Mahdi and Magnus. 

“Issssssssyyyyy!” Magnus exclaims drunkenly, throwing his arm around him.

“Yo, Mags.” He replies.

“Hey, bro.” Mahdi claps his left hand. “…thought you were-“

“Yeah, no, it was a bust. Police showed up and… stress.” Isak lies. “But, um, do you guys have alcohol?”

Mahdi nods, “yeah, vodka.”

“Can I have some?” Isak says, pulling up the rest of his six-pack from his backpack, “…I’ll trade you for beer.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure, I’ll trade you.” Mahdi says, and Isak says a low “sweet.” as Mahdi goes off in search of the vodka.

Then his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it up half-hoping to see Even’s name on the lock screen.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

23:29

Elias: Yo @Isak where did you go? Did you leave with Amalie??? Playa.

* * *

He slides his phone back in his pocket, schooling his features into a smile as Mahdi returns with a half-filled vodka bottle and shot glasses. He pours up three shots.

“Cheers.” Isak says, toasting his shot glass to Mahdi’s and then Magnus’.

“Cheers.”

Isak has barely tipped the first shot down before he nods at the vodka bottle in Mahdi’s hand. “Let’s do another.”

“Oi, you looking to get crunk, bro?” Mahdi smirks, pouring up another shot.

“Go hard or go home.” Isak says, tipping the shot back.

“You okay, bro?” Mahdi asks with a slight frown, eyeing the empty shot glass in Isak’s hand.

“I’m great.” Isak replies, wiping his lips with his sleeve. “Excellent in fact.”

Mahdi nods, and then Isak eyes the vodka bottle again.

“…Can I have another shot?”


	7. Cousin of death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Hangovers, the Bakka Squad and the Boy Squad bonding over weed, beers, music and cards, sharing a bed(ish) and _not sleeping_.  
> Tw: Excessive drinking, blacking out, throwing up, sings of hypomania.  
> (Also, note the rating, ahem.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is not at all the chapter, I had planned to write, but it sorta wrote itself. Next chapter should be up shortly. In the meantime enjoy another 9k of randomness and a bit of smut.

When Isak opens his eyes the morning after the party, two things register; one: he’s not at home but on an air mattress in Jonas’ room and two: he has to puke. Like, _now_.

He crunches up and runs to the bathroom to throw up, heaving into the toilet until nothing comes up anymore.

Afterwards he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and shakily stands up, running his mouth and face under the cold tap. He gulps down a couple of mouthfuls of cold water, for a second feeling like he has to throw up again. The feeling subsides though, and he shakily makes it back to Jonas’ room, flopping back down on the air mattress next to Jonas’ bed.

Jonas’ voice, rough with sleep, comes floating down from his bed. “You okay? I just heard you puke your guts out.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay.” Isak says to the ceiling, low-key feeling grateful that Jonas’ room - and the bathroom - is on the first floor of his house, and that his parents’ bedroom is downstairs. He sincerely hopes they didn’t hear him puke.

“Okay, good.” Jonas says back and then lazily sits up in his bed, rubbing his hand over his face. “What happened last night, man? I had to almost carry you here, you were so drunk…”

“Ugh.” Isak moans in response, registering how his voice sounds _fucked_. Hoarse from throwing up and from smoking and probably yelling over the music last night. He closes his eyes and pinches the skin between his eyebrows. He’s so fucking hungover, like, it’s probably the hangover of his fucking life, and that’s saying a lot considering how hard he went at it in December and January after his dad left. 

Well, he does remember saying “go hard or go home” to Mahdi last night just before starting with the vodka shots. And then he went _hard_ apparently.

“Yo, Issy?” Jonas asks again, his voice sounding more worried than annoyed. And Isak has about _zero_ interest in answering his questions, but something tells him, he’s probably not gonna let up. 

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.” He croaks out.

He _does_ remember taking a shot every time the image of Even making out with Sonja on the dancefloor, or Eva drunkenly asking him “are you gay?” replayed in his mind. At least that’s how that first half-bottle of vodka, he traded Mahdi for, disappeared. He doesn’t really remember anything after that. 

“No shit. You blacked out.” Jonas says. “…Mahdi and I had to carry you out, you were so fucking out of it.”

“Sorry. For that.” Isak says weakly, feeling nauseous again.

“That’s... Iss, you don’t need to apologize... it’s just... you didn’t seem like yourself, man.” Jonas says, and Isak can feel him looking at him even through his closed eyelids.

“No?” He says back lamely, “…well, I’m fine. Just overdid it with the vodka, I guess...”

Jonas raises his eyebrows. “You drank half a bottle and then some. If you hadn’t been puking your guts out already, I would’ve called an ambulance.”

“Oh.” He says back quietly, feeling ashamed of himself. Guilty too, for fucking up Jonas’ night. “…Sorry.”

“Did something happen at that Bakka-party?”Jonas asks, his voice laced with worry.

“Hmm?” Isak says, opening his eyes a tiny bit, his heart rate picking up. 

“It’s just...” Jonas scratches the back of his head, “...uh, Mikael texted me and asked me if I’d heard from you. And I texted him back like, yeah, you were with us at the Penetrators party and they were welcome to join since the cops shut down their party, but then he was like _what? the police didn’t shut it down_...” 

“Uh...” Isak says, his heart definitely beating faster now that he’s been caught in a lie. He tries to think, but his head hurts like shit, and _oh, fuck._ He’s gonna be sick again. He scrambles to his feet and runs to the bathroom, making it just in time to kneel on the cold tiles and puke the sad remains of his stomach content into the toilet bowl. He slumps over the toilet until he’s dry-heaving, and then he shakily stands up and flushes. 

His legs feel like jelly under him, as he pads back to Jonas’ room and flops down on the air mattress with a groan.

Jonas is quiet in the bed above him for a few moments. Then “do you need anything, man?”

“Uh, no. Just sleep I think.” He answers hoarsely.

“Okay.” Jonas says, and Isak turns on his side, wishing for sleep to cure both his physical and moral hang-over.

∙

When he wakes up again, sometime in the early afternoon, he feels marginally better. He sits up and rubs his eyes, and finds Jonas sitting cross legged in his bed above him with a bowl of cereal.

“Yo.” Jonas says. “…Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” he says back with a yawn.

“Good.” Jonas nods, then jerks his head at the bowl in his hands, “...want something to eat?”

“Yes please.” Isak croaks out, his voice still hoarse from throwing up.

Jonas nods and gets up, padding out of the room in sweatpants and a faded t-shirt. 

Isak follows him with his eyes, until he’s out the door, and then he leans over to his discarded jeans on the floor next to the air mattress, digging in the pockets for his phone. His lock screen is filled with notifications.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

Yesterday 23:29

Elias: Yo @Isak where did you go? Did you leave with Amalie??? Playa.

0:23

Elias: For real though are you ok? @Isak?

* * *

**Even Bakka**

0:32

Did you leave?

* * *

_New friend request from Amalie Lind_

_New friend request from Elise Nesby_

_New friend request from Mutasim Tatouti_

_New friend request from Adam Malik_

_New friend request from Adrian Eksett_

* * *

He accepts all the Facebook friend requests but doesn’t answer Elias or Even, just slips his phone back in his pocket, and then Jonas returns with a bowl of cereal, a can of Fanta and two Ibuprofen, plopping down next to him. He gratefully accepts the bowl, the soda and the pills; washing them down with a sip of Fanta. 

“Thanks, bro.”

“You’re welcome.” Jonas says.

Isak digs into the cereal slowly, so as not to mess with the lingering nausea.

”Did I... like, did I do anything embarrassing? Last night…” he asks tentatively raising a spoonful of sugary cereal to his mouth. 

”You mean besides barfing all over yourself?” Jonas says with a smirk and Isak reflexively looks down at himself. He’s wearing one of Jonas’ Wu-Tang t-shirts.

“Ugh, fuck.” he says.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Only Mahdi and Mags saw it. And, like, Mags was almost as drunk as you, so... He probably doesn’t even remember.”

“Okay.” Isak says back, only half-believing Jonas. “...But you’re sure I didn’t like... do or say anything... _stupid_?”

“Nah man, you were just drunk... you made out with Sara, though. And you talked with that guy Adrian from 2.STB for a while...I saw you mooch some vodka and cigarettes off him...” Jonas shrugs.

“Huh.” Isak says, shoveling a spoonful of sugary cereal into his mouth. Then: “I made out with Sara?!?” he scrunches his nose up in a mix of disgust and disbelief. 

“Yeah.” Jonas smirks.

“Oi.” Isak says, bringing another spoon of cereal to his mouth. 

“Do you want her back?”

“Sara?” Isak asks, raising his eyebrows. “…Uh, no. _No_. Definitely not.”

“Okay.” Jonas says, leaning back and watching Isak eat cereal for a moment. 

“How did the tutoring with the Bakka-guys go yesterday?” he then asks.

“Uh. Fine.” Isak says dismissively, “...I helped them finish their report. Then we smoked up.”

“Okay.” Jonas says, then nods at Isak’s cast. “...who drew on your cast?”

“Uh, Even.”

“He painted over my Illuminati triangle.”

“Hah, yeah. There’s still one left, though…” Isak says, twisting his arm a bit to show Jonas his red Illuminati triangle incorporated into one of Even’s intricate patterns.

“Oh yeah...” Jonas smiles, “…looks cool.”

“Mhmm.” Isak agrees.

∙

They spend the rest of the day in Jonas’ room gaming, eating potato chips and drinking soda.

Around 6 pm, Jonas’ mom pops her head in, asking if Isak is staying for dinner. He gratefully accepts the offer, and an hour later, he’s seated next to Jonas at the dinner table, both of them wolfing down homemade pizza to a bit of roasting from Jonas’ parents.

“…By the way, Isak, your t-shirt is in the dryer.” Jonas’ mom says with a smile.

“Yeah, mom washed it, because it was full of puke…” Jonas’ sister Thea deadpans, and Jonas snorts a laugh, weakly telling her off with a “yo, Thea…”

“What? It was.” She says back with all the attitude of a 13-year old.

“Uh, well thanks. For washing it.” Isak says to Jonas’ mom, blushing slightly at the thought that she has washed his puky t-shirt.

“Of course.” She just smiles, like it’s nothing, and Isak for a moment thinks that maybe it _is_ nothing, like maybe that’s just something a _normal mom_ does. Either way he’s grateful to have a clean t-shirt to wear tomorrow.

∙

After dinner, they lazily pad back to Jonas’ room to resume gaming and just chill.

They’re just powering up Jonas’ PlayStation for a game of FIFA, when both their phones beep with a new message from Magnus in the group chat.

* * *

**The Crew**

19:47

Magnus: Holy shit. Last night guys…I think I’m still drunk...

Mahdi: Hahahaha yeah, you and Isak went hard, bro.

Magnus: Yeah. Anyway, what are we doing tonight?

* * *

Isak looks up from his phone and over at Jonas.

“Mags, man.” Jonas snorts, “…What do you think? Should we invite them over?”

“Sure.” Isak shrugs with a smile. “…Same for me.”

* * *

**The Crew**

Jonas: Isak and I are at my place gaming FIFA. You guys can join if you want to.

Mahdi: No can do. I’m hanging out with the fam in Holmlia.

Magnus: I’m game. Be there in 30 mins.

Jonas: 👍

👍

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Magnus joins them in Jonas’ room, and he’s just launched into a match with Jonas, when Isak’s phone beeps again.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

20:27

Elias: Yo @Isak you still hung-over or what? Come join the party!

Image sent

* * *

Isak clicks on the photo of Elias taking a selfie, with Even, Mikael and Mutta smoking a joint in a windowsill in the background.

His heart skips a beat as he zooms in on Even; his hair looks a little messy, like someone has been pulling it, and his lips are kinda puffy and a little chapped. He’s still wearing the same black jeans and white t-shirt he wore yesterday.

He still looks fucking hot. 

_He probably spent all night and all of today fucking Sonja and then went straight to Elias’ without changing_.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

Even: @Isak Tell me, where Are Ü now?

Elias: That I need you

Mikael: Couldn’t find ya anywhere.

Elias: Lol

* * *

Isak rolls his eyes at the Bieber reference, lips quirking into a crooked smile at the thought of his little conversation with Even at the party yesterday.

> “Do you like her?”
> 
> “Uh, Amalie? Sure. She’s...hot. I think she likes Justin Bieber though, so...”
> 
> “And I’m guessing you don’t?”
> 
> “Uh, _no_. Do you?”
> 
> “Nei.”
> 
> “Okay. Phew.”

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

Bieber, really?

Elias: Yoooo he’s alive!

Don’t you guys have something better to do than texting me Bieber lyrics?

Even: No.

Mikael: Just come over here, bro. Still owe you a gram for tutoring us yesterday.

* * *

Isak snaps a quick photo of Jonas and Magnus engrossed in a FIFA match and sends it to the group chat.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

Image sent.

Busy.

Elias: Bring your boys. We got weed.

Mikael: And beer.

Elias: And FIFA…

Even: I’ll even let you beat me in FIFA again, if that’s what you want…

Lol @Even you make it sound like you let me win yesterday... 

Even: 😏

Mikael: Loooool

Elias: Just get over here, Isak…

* * *

“Who’s texting you?” Jonas asks, nodding at his phone.

“Uh, the Bakka-guys. They’re blazing at Elias’. Want us to join.”

“Hah! Seriously?” Magnus says, way too enthusiastically for someone with a hangover.

“Do you want to?” Jonas asks Isak.

“Uh, no… Or, I don’t know.” Isak says, internally debating it. He’s still a bit hungover and tired. Still, he kinda wants to go. His body starts humming with energy at the thought of going. “Do you?” he asks back looking between Jonas and Magnus. 

“Yes!” Magnus says surely.

“I don’t know.” Jonas shrugs casually, “…Kinda. Like, it’s Saturday, y’know.” He says in explanation. “…We could go. And like, just chill…”

“Ahhhh…” Isak squints his eyes, smirking at Jonas, “…You want to get high, and you’re out of weed?”

“Maybe.” Jonas smiles and then pulls a little shrug. “But I mean, it could also be chill just to hang out with them…They’re cool.”

“Okay.” Isak nods resolutely and stands up before he changes his mind. “…Let’s go, then.”

“Yaaaaaas!” Magnus says.

“Yeah?” Jonas asks.

“Mhmm. Yes.” Isak says, heartrate already picking up at the thought of seeing Even.

“Cool.” Jonas smiles, turning off his PlayStation and tv, and then he walks out to his bathroom.

Isak pulls his phone up to type out a quick reply.

* * *

**Passing physics inshallah**

Okay chill, we’ll stop by🚬

Even: ❤️

Mikael: 👍

Elias: Cool, see you soon bro

* * *

Isak’s eyes are stuck on the little red heart Even sent, feeling stupid for how an emoji heart is making his actual heart race. He doesn’t even react to Magnus’ excited chants, just zones out, looking at his phone and the heart.

It’s Jonas who pulls him out of his head, as he comes back into the room with a “yo, Issy, catch.”, throwing his now-clean t-shirt at him.

He catches it in his left hand with a “thanks.”, and Magnus sends him an impressed smile. “Nice catch.” He nods at Isak’s cast. “…Guess you actually _did_ become ambidextrous.”

“Told you so.” Isak smirks, and then he pulls off the Wu-Tang shirt and changes into his own, clean t-shirt, before turning to Jonas. “Can I borrow a snapback?” His curls are messy, and he’s not about to deal with it.

“Sure.” Jonas says easily, throwing him a burgundy Obey snapback, and five minutes later, they’re on their way to Elias’.

They’re about halfway there, when Isak starts stressing about leaving the Bakka-party last night and lying to Jonas about the police breaking up the party. Jonas mentioned that he’d texted with Mikael last night, so Mikael knows about the lie, too. He doesn’t know if Mikael has told Elias and Even and the rest of the Bakka-squad, though.

As they step off the tram and make their way to Elias’ apartment building, he desperately tries to think of a way to cover up for his lie. His brain is still too hungover and fuzzy to come up with a valid explanation though, and he low-key starts to get cold feet about the whole thing and is just about to fake a sudden bout of nausea to skip out of going to Elias’. But his legs continue carrying him forward, and Jonas and Magnus are laughing beside him, deep in a conversation about who was most drunk yesterday; Isak or Magnus.

So, Isak stays quiet.

“You okay, Iss?” Jonas finally asks him after what must’ve been a couple minutes of silence on his part.

“Uh, yeah.” he replies. “…just a little tired.”

Jonas nods. “We can just chill with the guys for a little bit, I’ll buy from Mikael, and then we can head back to mine…?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Isak nods.

“Can I come too? Boys’ sleepover?” Magnus says, and Jonas and Isak both snort a little laugh.

“Sure, Mags.” Jonas smiles.

∙

The smell of weed and the sound of hip-hop and loud voices meet them, as soon as Isak pushes open the front door to Elias’ apartment.

“Yo?” he calls out tentatively, his voice still sounding a little weird; definitely hoarser and slightly deeper than usual. Then Elias’ loud “Isaaaaakkk!” floats out from the living room, and Isak, Jonas and Magnus all step out of their sneakers, and Isak leads the way to the living room, where Elias, Mikael, Mutta and Adam are spread out in the two couches; calling out “yo”’s as Isak, Jonas and Magnus enter.

Even is sitting on the floor leaning back against a couch, long legs stretched out in front of him and rolling a joint on the black denim stretching over his thigh. He looks up at them with a “Hey!”

“Hey.” Isak says back with a little nod, heart already going wild in his chest; the queasiness of the hangover making a reappearance as he desperately tries to quell the image of Even and Sonja on the dancefloor. Of Even looking back at him, while he made out with her. 

_Maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea, after all._

“Welcome, welcome!” Elias then says sounding high as fuck, effectively interrupting Isak’s thoughts. He waves his hand at the couches and some large pillows spread out on the floor around the coffee table. “…Make yourselves comfortable. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Muchas gracias.” Jonas says back in perfect Spanish, clapping everyone’s hand before plopping down on the couch, next to Mikael, who scoots a little to make room for him. Magnus claps everyone’s hand too and plops down on a large pillow on the floor. Isak settles for giving everyone lefthanded fist-bumps, and then he too plops down on the floor, landing next to Even, with his back against the couch. 

“Sweet set-up...” He then says to Elias, nodding at the bong and the couple cases of beer on the coffee table, as he zips down his hoodie and shrugs out of it. “…Where are your parents? And Sana?”

“Visiting the grandparents in Lillehammer.” Elias smiles, cracking open a beer, “…won’t be home until tomorrow night.”

“Nice.” Isak replies, adjusting his snapback a little.

“Yup.” Elias agrees with a smile and then gestures to a case of beers on the coffee table. “…Help yourselves. Even brought a shitload of beer.”

“Thanks!” Magnus says enthusiastically and leans forward, grabbing a beer. Then he looks back over his shoulder, “…Isak?”

“Uh, no thanks.” Isak says, and Jonas snorts a knowing laugh from the couch, as he also leans forward and grabs a beer, loudly pulling it open.

“Hungover?” Even smiles, and Isak half-turns to look at him. “Yup.” he replies, popping the p and lifting his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Okay.” Even smiles with a nod and then licks the joint to seal it.

“…That’s what I’m saying, Issy, you were definitely the drunkest of us last night, bro.” Magnus says over the rim of his beer can before taking a sip.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Isak says back, eager to change the subject.

But no.

“About last night...” Elias smirks “…Elise told me to tell you, that she thinks you’re…uh, what was it, Mikael?” he turns to look at Mikael.

Isak raises an eyebrow in question. “Hmm?”

“Um…” Mikael says, taking a hit from the bong and inhaling deeply, “…Like, a cute Stephen Hawking, or something.”

Jonas snorts a laugh at that, accepting the bong from Mikael.

Even also snorts a laugh beside him, then lights up the joint he’s rolled and takes a few drags.

“ _What_?” Isak says back with a frown. “…I’m not _Stephen Hawking_ …”

“Who the fuck is Stephen Hawking?” Adam pipes up as Jonas passes him the bong.

“Uh, world-famous physicist, man…” Mutta explains, sounding high as fuck. “…You know, in a wheelchair… with a sorta speech device thingy...Like, a robot voice…”

“Ohhhh… the old nerdy dude who talks kinda like Darth Vader?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway…” Elias cuts in, “…I think the point was that she thought you were cute, bro. And smart.” 

“Oh.” Isak says dumbly with a nod, accepting the joint from Even.

“…You hooked up with Elise?” Mutta asks him and then smirks, “…Pretty ballsy of you to go for a third-year…”

Isak shrugs in response, noticing Even looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Uh huh.” Elias agrees. “…And like there I was being all nice, offering to introduce him to some chicks or whatever…” he says to Mutta with a laugh, “…and Isak here was just like _nah, I don’t need your help pulling chicks_ … And bam, he hooks up with Elise _and_ Amalie, can you believe it? Dude’s got a pair of _balls_.”

“Oiiii!!!” Adam and Mutta both say.

Magnus turns to look at Isak then, wide-eyed, mouth slightly open. “What, you hooked up with _two chicks_ at that party??”

“Yeah.” Isak says back nonchalantly, not bothering to mention that he didn’t _actually_ _hook up_ with any of them

“…And then Sara at the Penetrators party??“ Magnus says to a couple of “whoooahhh”’s from Elias, Mutta and Adam.

Isak just shrugs.

“Fy faen, so unfair.” Magnus mopes.

“Oiiii, Isak, man...” Elias laughs, “…a hattrick! You’re better at pulling chicks than you are at playing FIFA.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” Isak sasses, and Elias smirks back “that’s for you to decide, man.”

“Well, my FIFA game is still pretty strong, so I’ll accept the compliment.” Isak snarks back with a raised eyebrow, to a chorus of snorted laughs.

“Did you get laid, though?” Adam asks from the couch, and Isak shakes his head. “Nah, I was too drunk…”

“You were definitely shitfaced, when you made out with Sara…” Jonas supplies, and Isak is kinda grateful for the backup.

“Maybe next time, bro.” Elias says, raising his beer can at Isak in a toast, and then the Bakka-guys launch into a conversation about the party yesterday and how Adam had _no_ _luck_ , not even with the 99’ers, but Elias had hooked up with Kajsa, even though she probably wanted Even. Magnus cuts in with “…who’s Kajsa? Do you think she’d go for a first-year?” 

And Isak lets out a breath he’s probably been holding since he walked out of Jonas’ door, heading to Elias’ place.

He leans back and stretches his legs out on the floor next to Even’s, letting his eyes skim up the black denim of Even’s jeans for a moment before turning his head slightly to the side to sneak a peek at Even’s face from underneath his snapback.

Only, when he casts a side-glance at him, Even looks back at him unabashedly. His eyes look dark when they meet Isak’s, his pupils slightly blown.

_The weed probably._

Isak’s heartrate starts climbing immediately. The memories from last night come flooding back, and he suddenly feels parched. So, despite his lingering hangover and initial aversion to drink alcohol in any form tonight, he leans forward and grabs a can of Tuborg off the coffee table, swallowing drily as he fidgets to pull it open.

“You need help with that?” Even asks, his voice deep and a little hoarse from smoking.

“Uh, no thanks.” Isak croaks out, finally opening the can with a fizz. “…I’m good.” He lifts the beer to his lips and takes a long swig.

∙

About an hour later they are well into the first of the cases of beer Even brought, and Isak stacks his third empty Tuborg can on the coffee table in front of him. He’s definitely tipsy now, and judging from the general noise level, and the rowdiness of the current conversation about sex and chicks, so are the rest of the guys.

Adam and Magnus pass Elias’ laptop between them, alternating to pick song for the Spotify queue, and Isak is just pulling open a fresh can of Tuborg when Magnus claps his hands on his thighs excitedly, like having an epiphany or some shit. “Oh, holy shit, I’ve got the perfect song!” He makes grabby hands at the laptop and Adam passes it to him with a smile. “What, bro?”

“Issy’s song…” Magnus says, eyes on the screen as he types.  
“Hah!” Jonas snorts a laugh from the couch, and Isak immediately rolls his eyes. “Nei. Not that.”

“Yesssss that!” Magnus says, drunkenly searching on YouTube for the song.

“You have a song?” Even says, turning to Isak and raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Ugh. No. It’s not, uh...” Isak falters. 

“Play it, play it, play it!” The Bakka-guys start chanting in the background, and Magnus finally finds it on YouTube, clicking play and turning the volume up.

_“Drikker natta ned bånner alle shotteglass du kommer med, vi gjemmer os naken i et skogholt hva er galt med det”_

Isak blushes as his own voice comes blasting out through the wireless speaker.

“Oiiii, what??” Mikael and Elias both laugh, and Jonas snorts a “yup…”

Mutta and Adam immediately start bopping their heads to the beat, and Even just stares at Isak; his lips dropping open in a wide smile, eyebrows up at the dirty lyrics. 

“Whaaat, is that you rapping?”

“Ugh.” Isak says, flushing in embarrassment despite being crossfaded as fuck. He hides his face in his hands, shaking his head slightly.

“I know right? It’s so fucking funny!” Magnus says to Even.

“Seriously though, is it you, Isak?” Even smiles, and Isak lets out a groan, taking a long swig of his beer. Then he looks at Even, who’s looking expectantly at him, eyes and smile wide.

“Uh, it’s…” he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. ”…Yeah, it’s me.” he finally admits.

“Oiiii!!” The Bakka-guys all laugh, and Even raises his eyebrows all the way up. ”How did you-, _what_?”

Isak takes another sip of beer before launching into an explanation. “So, there’s this big third-year russe-crew at Nissen; _The Penetrators_ …The ones with the party last night…”

Even nods, his blue eyes intense on Isak’s, so Isak continues. “…And one of the guys, Chris, knows that I can rap a little bit, and a couple of months ago, he asked me if I wanted to record their russe-song in exchange for beer and vodka.”

“How very… low-maintenance…” Even smirks, and Isak picks up on the reference from yesterday. He rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Still _,_ I can’t believe you rapped those lyrics.” Even says, carding a hand through his own hair. “…I mean _Penetrators will cum on your face…?_ ”

Isak feels his cheeks heat up even more at Even saying those words. The lyrics may be ridiculous but still, Even saying the words _cum_ and _face_ in the same sentence… _Yeah_.

“Yeah well, I didn’t write the song… I just did the rapping.” He manages.

“Right.” Even smirks.

“…Oi, no, no, no.” Elias then says, listening to the lyrics and nodding at the speaker, “… _We’ll_ _roll into Tryvann like motherfucking IS?_ That’s too much, bro. Really.” He laughs and Mikael agrees with a smile. “Yeah, that’s… over the line.”

“You think _that’s_ over the line?!” Even twists to look at Elias and Mikael with raised eyebrows. “…Uh, what about _Penetrators will cum on your face?_ _It’s going to_ rain cum _?”_

“No, that’s just funny, bro.” Adam smiles, bopping his head to the song.

“Hella funny, man.” Magnus nods with a laugh.

“Look, I didn’t _write the fucking lyrics_!” Isak scoffs, silently cursing Magnus for choosing to play that stupid song in front of _everyone_.

Even pulls his phone up from his jeans pocket with a smirk. “Well, I’m saving this to my YouTube playlist. Not for the lyrics though. Just your rapping.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Isak says, but he’s still blushing, when the song finally ends, and Adam presses play on another russe-song to protests from Mikael: “Noooo, bro, no more russe-songs…” 

“What? It gets the party started!” Adam says, moving his head from side to side to a bass-heavy beat, and Magnus nods in agreement, pumping his fist in the air.

“Can’t we just, like, listen to something _good_?” Mikael continues, then turns to Isak. “…No offense, bro.”

“None taken, believe me.” Isak replies. “I fucking hate russe-songs.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jonas agrees, “…I’m not into that shit, man.”

“I know, right?” Mikael says, before turning to Adam again. “…What about, like, Karpe or the new Arif album or something?” he suggests, and Jonas nods “I second that.” Isak also nods his agreement. “Me too.”

“The new Arif album is dope.” Even supplies, and Adam changes the music with a “…Okay, okay, chill! Arif it is.”

“But hey, if you guys wanna _get the party started_ , I say we play cards…” Elias then says, crunching up from the couch to rummage in a wicker basket on a shelf on the wall. “…King’s cup?” he suggests, as he draws up a pack of cards and plops back down in the couch.

“Okay.” Mutta and Adam agree.

“Yeah, sure.” Jonas and Mikael nod.

“Let’s _go_.” Magnus says enthusiastically.

Elias reaches forward to grab Isak’s stacked beer can-tower and places it in the center of the coffee table. Then he spreads out the cards in a circle. “Youngest one starts.” He looks between Isak, Jonas and Magnus.

“Hah, that’s you bro.” Magnus says to Jonas, and Jonas leans forward and picks up a card.

“Oi, a jack.” Mutta says, looking at the flipped card. “…That’s _never have I ever_ , right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Elias nods.

“Okay.” Jonas says, drawing his eyebrows together. “…Never have I ever…” he takes a second to think, drumming his fingertips on the coffee table.

”What, man?” Mikael says, “...I’m curious now.”

Jonas smiles. “Okay, never have I ever had a threesome.”

There’s a moment of silence, the whole group looking around at each other. No one drinks.

“What about you and Sonja, Ev?” Elias asks, pulling a beer open.

Even doesn’t get to answer before Mikael snorts a laugh, turning to Elias with a smirk. “Bro, think about it… Do you really think Sonja would go for that?”

“Hah, no, you’re right.” Elias says to Mikael.

“…Uh, question:” Magnus then asks from where he’s sitting on the floor. “…Like, if you’re a couple, do you have a threesome with an extra girl or an extra dude?”

“A girl.” Elias, Mutta and Adam all answer confidently.

“Yeah, but like, what if you do that once, and then your girlfriend wants _equality_ … Like, what if she’s like _okay we did that, but now I want to try it with another dude in the mix_ …?”

“Oiii… equality…” Mutta says, taking a drag of a newly rolled joint.

“That’s important, man.” Jonas says, tipping his beer at Mutta.

“Maybe you let another dude join.” Even says to Magnus with a shrug, and Isak takes a sip of his beer, trying to process the conversation happening in front of his eyes. Even’s answer, especially.

“Okay…” Magnus nods. “…To make your girlfriend happy…?”

“Yeah, but, like…” Even says, rolling his lip in, “…I think you have to be into it, too. Otherwise it’ll just be a shit experience.” He takes a sip of beer.

“Huh.” Magnus says, and Adam cuts in with a “I don’t think, I’ll be ever be into that. Like, no disrespect to guys who like dick, but…”

“No, I hear ya, bro. Same here.” Mutta says, and Isak takes another long swig of beer, cheeks growing warm again.

_Guys who like dick._

“Kinda gay, isn’t it?” Magnus then says, “…like, having sex with another dude…”

“Well, it isn’t exactly _gay_ if your girlfriend is there too, is it?” Jonas says, accepting the joint from Mutta and taking a drag. “…Like, I assume you’re having sex with your girlfriend, not the dude…”

“Hmm yeah, okay. But still… a little bisexual then, maybe.” Magnus says with a shrug.

“Okay okay, but yo for real,” Elias cuts in, “…nobody here has ever had a threesome…?” he smirks at Adam. “…I know _you_ haven’t, bro. With your game, you can’t even handle _one_ chick.”

“What? Shut up.” Adam says indignantly to a chorus of laughs.

Isak looks around then casts a side-glance at Even. But no one admits to having had a threesome. Not Even either.

“Hey Isak, you could’ve had a threesome last night with those Bakka-chicks…” Magnus then says, turning to him. “…think about it, man.”

“Oiiii, true!” Elias laughs. ”…Elise probably would’ve been into that. I’ve seen her kiss girls at parties.”

“Maybe, yeah.” Isak just shrugs.

“Next party, bro.” Elias winks at him, and Magnus cuts in with “… _Or_ , like, you could settle for just one chick, and pass the other one on to me.”

Isak quirks an eyebrow and smirks at Magnus. “Not sure that’s how it works, Mags, but sure.”

The guys all laugh, and then Elias jerks his head at Mikael and then at the ring of cards. “Mik, you’re up.” And Mikael leans forward picking up a card.

“Waterfall, yay.”

∙

It’s a little after 3am, when the party starts dwindling down. They’ve effectively run out of beer and weed, except for the little ziplock bag with one gram, Mikael slid into Isak’s hand a few hours ago as partial payment for yesterday’s tutoring session.

Magnus has fallen asleep on the floor, and the rest of the guys, including Isak, are too tired and/or crossfaded to function and definitely feeling the weight of second-day drinking.

Jonas drunkenly pulls his phone up from his pocket, half-heartedly checking the time plan for the tram, turning to Isak with a “…there’s like 30 minutes to the next tram...”

“Ugh.” Isak groans in answer, leaning his head back against the couch behind him. He chokes down a yawn, feeling doubly exhausted at the thought of leaving the warm apartment to go wait for the tram in the cold for thirty minutes.

“Just crash here, man.” Elias says to them, as he drunkenly stands up from the couch. “…Like the rest of the guys...” he gestures to the Bakka-guys, and Isak meets Even’s eyes, as he nods in agreement.

“Okay. Cool, thanks.” Jonas and Isak both say, and Elias nods a “sure. G’night.” before trudging to his room with Mutta and Adam following him to crash in his room. Mikael and Jonas call dibs on the two couches in the living room with Mikael yawning a “you guys are too tall for the couches anyway...” at Isak and Even.

Even smiles and turns to Isak. “So, the floor, I guess… unless you want to crash in Sana’s room...”

Isak raises his eyebrows. “Fuck no. I value my life.”

Even snorts a laugh at that.

“…You’re welcome to spoon up here with me if you want, Issy…if you can fit.” Jonas says sleepily and Isak replies “no thanks, man. I’ll take the floor over that.”

Elias materializes in the doorframe then, dropping a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. “Here. Sort yourselves out.”

“Thanks.” Isak nods at him, as Even arranges the large pillows they used for sitting into a make-shift mattress on the floor.

Jonas and Mikael each stand up to grab a blanket and a pillow and then return to the couches, and then there’s only one blanket left. 

Isak grabs a pillow and the last blanket, shaking it out. It’s big, but not really big enough for two tall guys.

“You can take it.” Even says, flopping down on the pillow mattress, and Isak mutters a low “uh, thanks.” before taking off his snapback and lying down on the hardwood floor. The only thing between his back and the hard floor is a kilim rug, and within a minute, his back and shoulder blades start aching. So, he turns on his side, but then his hip starts hurting from where it’s pressing against the floor, and then it’s his shoulder. He tosses and turns for a few moments, trying to get comfortable but failing. The room is quiet save for the light snores coming from Magnus, Jonas and Mikael, and for a moment he envies Jonas and Mikael for the couches.

“I’ll share the mattress, if you’ll share the blanket.” Even then says quietly, and Isak opens his eyes and finds Even’s blue eyes, radiant even in the faint light coming from the streetlights outside, looking at him. He takes a second to look; Even is lying on his side, resting his head on his bicep. His hair is peeking out from under his hoodie and falling softly over his face, his white t-shirt twisting a little around his body and pulling taut over his chest. There’s about an inch of skin showing above the waistband of his jeans, where his t-shirt is riding up.

Isak swallows and whispers back an “okay.”, grabbing the blanket and the pillow and inching over to Even’s pillow mattress.

And despite being crossfaded and exhausted, his body tenses up and his heart starts _pounding_ , the second he lies down next to Even. He turns on his side with his back to Even and tries to take up as little space as possible, and as promised passes him some of the blanket over his shoulder. All he can think about though, is how Even is _right there_ , his body right next to his, and how their bodies would touch, and they’d spoon, if he moved just an inch back, or if Even moved forward an inch.

Even _does_ move behind him then, pulling a bit on the blanket and moving a tad closer; so close, that Isak can feel the heat from his body and his warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. It makes his palms sweaty and his heart beat so hard, it feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. It also makes blood surge to his groin with impressive speed, making him hard in a couple of seconds despite the amount of beer and weed he’s had in the past hours. He low-key panics as his thoughts start spiraling; like, what if Even notices? What if he can sense that he’s getting hard from lying next to him? What if he can hear how his breathing is a little labored or how hard his heart is beating against the pillow underneath them?

His throat clicks drily as he swallows and closes his eyes, hoping that Even will fall asleep soon, because _he’s_ probably not calming down enough to sleep any time soon.

∙

Even doesn’t fall asleep.

Isak can tell by his breathing, that he’s still awake, and judging by the way he tosses and turns, it seems like he’s having just as much trouble falling asleep as Isak.

Isak doesn’t know how long they’ve both been lying here awake, but his heart is still pounding like he’s running uphill, he’s sweating in his hoodie and he’s still hard, straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He experimentally moves his hips a tiny bit to get into a more comfortable position, but _oh. Fuck._ The friction from the fabric of his boxers sliding over his sensitive dick makes him hitch a breath, and the urge to touch himself, or to grind against _something_ is now getting unbearable. So, he takes a couple of breaths and then makes a quick decision and stands up, pulling his hoodie down over the bulge in his jeans, and quickly makes his way to the bathroom.

He has barely closed the door behind him, before his hand is at his zipper, pulling it down to get a hand around himself. He shimmies his jeans down just past his hips and sits down on the closed lid of the toilet, shoving his left hand down his boxers and breathing out a sigh of relief, when he finally touches himself. His boxers are a little damp with pre-cum already, and he spreads his legs as far as his jeans around his hips allows, and leans his head back, closing his eyes.

He tries to make his mind blank, but all he sees is Even, Even, Even.

He’s so lost in the sensation of finally touching himself, that he doesn’t even notice the door to the bathroom opening slightly. The sound of it clicking shut is loud though, and makes him snap his head back in panic, his hand coming to an instant stop in his boxers.

His heart jumps in his chest, when he sees Even lean back against the closed door; his eyes dark, lips slightly parted. 

_What the fuck._

“Don’t stop.” He says hoarsely, and despite the confusion and initial panic, Isak feels his dick grow even harder in his hand.  
_Is this even real?_

He swallows and stares wide-eyed at Even for a few long seconds, while his fuzzy, crossfaded brain tries to determine what the fuck is going on. Fantasy or not, he’s so turned on, he’s starting to feel lightheaded.

Even gives him a quick eyebrow up and down; almost like a challenge, and Isak feels another surge of blood to his groin. His hand starts moving inside his boxers again. Even keeps his eyes on his, but Isak drops his gaze to Even’s crotch, hitching a breath when he sees his hips jutting out from where he’s leaning against the closed door, an unmistakable bulge in his tight black jeans. Isak instinctively grips himself tighter, and starts stroking faster, his eyes locked on the bulge in Even’s jeans.

Even drops a hand to his bulge, palming himself, almost like showing off for him. Then he opens his zipper and slips his hand inside, and even though Isak can’t see Even’s dick for his boxers - the rustling of fabric, the sight of Even’s hand disappearing into his boxers and the very thought of Even being hard and touching himself, is enough to make him choke on his own spit and for pre-cum to trickle down from the tip and into his palm. He grabs his dick at the base for a second, making a tight fist around himself, but it’s a lost cause. He’s too far gone, too keyed up to edge himself in any way. So, he slides his hand up his length, all the way to the head and thumbs at the slit, spreading the pre-cum over the sensitive head and down the length, and then he picks up the strokes. He keeps his eyes on Even’s hand moving inside his boxers, because looking up at his face and meeting his eyes while he’s touching himself is too. _Much_. 

Even’s hand picks up speed too, and when he lets out a low moan, it’s game over for Isak; his eyes flutter closed as his hips jerk forward and he comes in his boxers, soaking the thin cotton. The wet spot grows bigger, as he works himself through the intense orgasm.

He opens his eyes back up just in time to see Even roll his lip in and then drop his lips open, eyebrows drawing together and his head falling back against the door with a low-pitched moan as he comes too. 

The sight and sound of Even riding out his orgasm makes Isak’s still mostly-hard dick twitch and push out one last drop of cum, adding to the mess in his boxers.

When Even snaps his head back and opens his eyes, looking straight at him, Isak’s stomach does a weird lurch, and he hurries to zip his jeans back up and walk the three steps to the sink, washing his hands. Through the mirror he catches Even’s eyes glinting with something he can’t quite place. So, he drops his gaze to his own hands, scrubbing them clean.

As soon as he has washed the soap off his hands, he leaves Even at the sink and walks back to the living room, quietly lying down on the pillows and closing his eyes. Even plops down beside him a few minutes later, and Isak makes sure to keep as much space between them as possible. After some twenty minutes of deep breathing, he finally starts drifting off to sleep. 

∙

When Isak wakes up again just a few hours later, the faint morning light streams in through the windows and the sound of Jonas’, Mikael’s and Magnus’ snores fill the otherwise quiet room. There’s a still-sticky spot in his boxers to remind him of what happened a few hours ago, and he turns onto his other side and opens his eyes slightly to peer at Even sleeping.

But instead of Even, Isak’s eyes settle on the empty pillows.

He forces his eyes open for a second, raising up on his good elbow to take a look around in the living room searching for Even, but there’s no trace of him.

Sitting up makes him feel dizzy, and his head starts pounding, and he’s still so fucking tired and kinda drunk, so he flops back down and closes his eyes again, drifting off to sleep once more. 

∙

The next time Isak wakes, it’s around 10am, and Even still isn’t there. So, he lies awake in the quiet room, staring at the ceiling for a few moments, heart starting to beat hard in his chest, when he thinks back on last night.

 _What the fuck_.

His cheeks heat up, and he feels himself start to get hard again at the thought. What the _fuck_ was that?

He wonders if Even is still somewhere in the apartment, or if he went home.

He picks his phone up from the floor and checks for messages, on the odd chance that Even would’ve sent him a message, but there are no notifications on his lock screen. So, he flops back on his back and stares at the ceiling again, thoughts going wild.

_What the fuuuuuck._

_Okay okay, so maybe it was just two drunk dudes, no, two drunk_ friends _, who couldn’t sleep, and like, there_ had been _a lot of talk about sex all night, and maybe they both just needed to get off to like, fucking sleep. Yes. Just two friends coincidentally jerking off at the same time. Just a release. To sleep. Okay. Fine._

He crunches up and gets up resolutely, refusing to think anymore about last night, because _there’s nothing to think about. It’s all good_ , and quietly makes his way to the bathroom. The second he closes the door behind him, the _very vivid_ memories from last night come flooding back though, and he grows hard in 0.2 seconds.

 _Nope. Don’t go there._ He chastises himself and focuses on thinking about something else. Magnus’ loud snoring. The drool pooling on his chin.

He takes a couple of deep breaths, waiting for his erection to subside enough to allow him to pee.

_There we go_.

He zips his jeans down and takes a long pee, sighing in relief before zipping himself back up, flushing and washing his hands. Then he takes a look at himself in the mirror, for a second remembering Even meeting his eyes dead on through the mirror after they’d-

_No._

He focuses on looking at himself in the mirror. His hair is super tousled and messy from tossing and turning, and he looks a little pale, but it could be worse. All things considered; the past two nights’ binge drinking and the lack of sleep, he actually looks okay. Feels somewhat okay, too, despite being hungover (again) and having slept only a few hours on a hardwood floor. He’s tired, but he’s not sick, so there is that. 

He runs a hand through his curls, trying to tame them a little bit, and then leaves the bathroom to pad back to the living room.

When he closes the bathroom door, he hears the click of the front door though and then footsteps.

Curiosity makes him follow the sound of footsteps through the corridor to the kitchen, and there is Even, hoisting two plastic bags onto the kitchen counter, pulling up bread, fruit, eggs, bacon and cheese from the bags. Isak leans against the doorframe, watching Even like in a daze, and then Even turns around shooting him a beaming smile.

“Good mornin’! Sleep well?” His smile is too bright, too radiant for someone who has slept even less than Isak.

“Uh…” Isak says, “…sure.”

“Good.” Even smiles, clearly ignoring what happened between them, too.

 _There’s nothing_ _to ignore_. Isak convinces himself, and Even turns back around to rummage in the cupboards. He finds a chopping board and a pan and sets them on the kitchen counter.

Isak walks up to the counter and leans his hip against it, peering at the groceries spread out on the counter.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he asks, remembering how Even’s texts woke him up at 3 am two days ago.

“No.” Even says, his eyes glinting with that same spark from a few hours ago. “…Sleep is the cousin of death.” He says and then pulls up his phone from his jeans pocket, clicking around a bit before laying his phone down on the counter. A Nas song, that Isak recognizes from the Illmatic album, starts streaming out from the iPhone’s speaker, and Even raps along, while he unpacks the rest of the groceries. Isak slumps against the counter, placing his elbows on the countertop and rests his face in his hand, watching Even move around in the kitchen. His movements are quick, and frankly Isak doesn’t understand how he can have so much energy after two nights drinking and smoking and hardly any sleep last night.

“Did you...” Isak starts, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “…Did you sleep _at all_?” he looks at Even.

Even casts him a smile over his shoulder. “No, I went for a walk.”

“A walk?” he says back, squinting his eyes in question.

“Yes. A walk.” Even beams, and Isak stares dumbly. “Okay...?”

Then comes the sound of footsteps and Elias’, Adam’s and Mutta’s voices, as they pad into the kitchen, with lazy “mornin’s”

“Hey.” Isak nods, and Even smiles a “good morning.”

“Oi, are you making breakfast, Ev?” Elias asks, eyes scanning over the groceries on the counter.

“Yeah.” Even says, flinging open the top cabinets, “…where does your mom keep the spices?”

“Next to the stove.” Elias says with a yawn, plopping down at the table, followed by Mutta and Adam.

“Did you sleep okay, Isak?” Elias says, and Isak nods back a curt “yeah.”

“Good.” Elias says, then looks over at Even. “…What about you, Ev?”

“Mhmm.” He says back vaguely, while he whisks eggs together in a bowl, and then Mikael, Jonas and Magnus come into the kitchen, and they all launch into a conversation about last night’s game of King’s Cup and how Magnus got so drunk he fell asleep on the floor.

Isak taps out for a moment and steals a glance at Even, who’s deeply engrossed in cooking, and making coffee and changing the music on his phone. All at once.

∙

After eating a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bread and cheese, bacon and fruit, and thanking Even for breakfast, Isak, Jonas and Magnus stand up and migrate to the corridor to put on sneakers and jackets.

“You guys are welcome to stick around and chill…” Elias says with a yawn, but Isak doesn’t want to overstay his welcome. So, he gives Elias a fist bump with a “thanks man, I should get home, though. Get some more sleep.”

“Okay, cool.” Elias nods and Isak, Jonas and Magnus all say goodbye to the guys with fist bumps and hand claps.

“Sleep tight.” Even says with a knowing smile, when Isak fist-bumps him, and the fact that he’s maybe kinda acknowledging the secret between them makes Isak blush. “Yeah, uh, thanks.” He manages in reply, and then he’s out the door with Magnus and Jonas following him down the stairs to the street.

“Holy shit, I’m tired.” Magnus exclaims, when the entrance door slams shut behind them and they make their way to the tram.

“Yeah, me too.” Jonas yawns. “…But hey, guess you got your boys’ sleepover, Mags.” He smiles.

“Yeah.” Magnus smiles. “...Oh, fy faen, the Bakka-guys are so cool.” He says dazedly. “…Do you think we’ll be that cool, when we’re third-years?”

“Sure…” Isak says. “…Well, maybe not you, but…” he smirks.

Magnus slaps his shoulder. “Ugh, shut up, Isak.”

They make it to the tram, and Magnus falls asleep against the window, his breath fogging and cooling into little water drops on the glass. Isak looks at him for a second, then he discreetly pulls up the ziplock bag of weed he got from Mikael in payment and slips it into Jonas’ hand. “Thanks for… y’know. Friday. Dragging me home and all.”

“De nada, Issy.” Jonas smiles, “…you don’t have to _pay_ _me_ , y’know...”

“I know. But I want to.”

“Okay. Well, thanks.” Jonas smiles, pocketing the ziplock bag of weed. “…You coming back to my place?”

Isak thinks about it for a second. “Nah. I’m gonna head home.”

“Okay, Is.” Jonas says. “…just let me know…”

“I will, thanks.” Isak says with a nod.

∙

Thirty minutes later, Isak is at his house, closing the door to his room. He changes into a clean t-shirt and a pair of Nike football shorts and then hits the bed. He falls asleep and sleeps for a solid four hours, finally catching a bit up on his sleep.

When he wakes up again and picks up his phone from his nightstand, there is a new notification on his lock screen.

* * *

**Even Bakka**

16:04

Keep up  
Keep up, keep up, keep up  
That's all I want, keep up  
Keep up with me, keep up  
Keep up  
Keep up, keep up, keep up  
That's all I want, keep up  
Keep up with me, keep up

16:46

Did you like the song?

* * *

Isak googles the lyrics. Childish Gambino. He doesn’t recognize the name, so he hits play, the music streaming out from his iPhone.

* * *

**Even Bakka**

17:04

Childish Gambino…?  
What kind of hipster shit is this?

Hahaha

17:37

Btw you look cute when you sleep❤️

* * *


	8. Botanical Magical (Green)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Cezinando - Botanisk Hage.
> 
> See end notes for trigger warnings.

After waking up from his 4-hour nap, Isak spends the rest of his Sunday in a weird hungover daze, only leaving his room for the bathroom, and to refill a half-liter water bottle in the kitchen.

He feels weird; he’s sweating in his t-shirt and thin Nike football shorts, but his hands are cold and clammy. He’s exhausted but so fucking restless; his brain both fuzzy with fatigue and working overtime trying to remember and forget what happened last night. Early this morning. Whatever.

The thing. With Even. He can’t believe it happened. Like, what the _actual_ _fuck_ was that. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking going to the bathroom to jerk off? And _what the fuck_ was Even thinking when he joined him?

What if someone had heard them or seen them. What if one of the guys had needed to take a piss and had opened the bathroom door and seen-

His heart rate picks up as he thinks about what they did, and he’s hit with a surge of arousal so intense that he gets chills down his spine, but his cheeks flush with heat.

 _No, don’t._ He chastises himself futilely.

His cheeks are burning when he presses his cold fingertips to them, and the more he thinks about what happened in Elias’ bathroom, the more flustered and aroused and shameful and giddy and regretful and hopeful he feels. It’s fucking with his brain and his body, so he desperately tries to stop thinking about it. Like, _really tries_. At one point he almost succeeds in convincing himself that nothing _really happened_ ; maybe it was all just a dream, his brain making up a crazy hallucination fueled by exhaustion, alcohol, weed, a second-day hangover and a lingering arousal from all that guy talk about sex…

But when he reaches out for his phone with slightly shaky fingers and re-reads Even’s text, he knows that it happened. Him and Even. In Elias’ bathroom. Watching each other get off, trying to keep it down, while everyone else was asleep.

His heart starts pounding so hard, he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.

He puts the phone down beside him and turns on the tv, navigating to Netflix and hoping for a distraction. Anything to stop thinking about _it_.

It’s only a few minutes before he reaches for his phone again though. The metallic backside of his iPhone sliding against his clammy palm as he re-reads the text one more time.

* * *

 **Even Bakka  
** 17:37

Btw you look cute when you sleep❤

* * *

He swipes his tongue over his lip, for a moment imagining Even lying next to him in the half-dark room, watching him sleep. He’s too flustered to construct a timeline but he tries anyway; they’d all called it a night around 3 am, and then he and Even both lay awake for a while. Then there was _the thing,_ and he vaguely remembers waking up hella early, like at 6 or 7 am maybe, and Even was gone. When he woke up again around 10, he met him in Elias’ kitchen, unpacking groceries.

> I went for a walk.

That’s what Even had told him.

_But who the fuck goes out for a walk at 5 am?_

He takes a last look at the text and puts the phone down beside him. He doesn’t know how to reply, so he just doesn’t. Instead he tries to ignore it. Tries concentrating on the tv and the stupid show on Netflix instead of thinking about Even watching him sleep, and _the thing_ and just. _Even_. His messy hair and his lips and his black jeans stretching tightly over his crotch and-

He really can’t help it, he’s so flustered and restless and turned on, that his body kinda acts on its own; his left hand sliding down to palm himself over his football shorts. He curls his fingers around the outline of his hard dick, feeling himself up over the synthetic fabric with his fingertips.

He keeps his eyes on the tv, as he casually touches himself over his shorts; there’s a little wet spot forming already, making it easier to rub himself through the fabric.

He tries to not think about this morning, tries to just focus on the tv screen and zone out while he touches himself, but within seconds, the image of himself and Even in Elias’ bathroom starts looping in his mind. The tv runs in the background, volume turned up a bit to drown out his hushed moans, as he starts rubbing himself with more intent. It feels a little weird, but good, touching himself over his shorts like this, the damp and smooth nylon adding a little extra friction. He rubs faster and a little harder, concentrating on the little spot just below the head and _oh fuck_ -

His dick twitches, straining hard against the fabric, and that’s the only warning he gets before he comes in his shorts, soaking the nylon front.

He lets out a surprised moan, as he keeps rubbing, working himself through it; the quick and unexpected orgasm completely taking him by surprise.

_What the fuck was that._

He stares mindlessly at the tv for a couple of moments, his hand still resting on his crotch. Then he gets out of bed, shimmies out of his sticky football shorts and pulls on a fresh pair of boxers from his closet before returning to bed. He spends a little time fluffing a couple of pillows and arranging them behind his back for premium tv watching conditions. Then he leans back, trying to settle in and watch the stupid Netflix show in earnest. Trying not to _think about it_.

He keeps zoning out though, compulsively pulling up his phone every five minutes to re-read Even’s text.

He can’t believe Even texted him that; can’t believe he would somehow acknowledge the weird _thing_ between them.

Can’t believe he looks cute sleeping, either. He low-key hopes he looks better asleep than Magnus does.

 _Cute_. Even wrote. Apparently Even thinks he looks _cute_ , when he sleeps.

He keeps staring at the little heart emoji, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

∙

It’s around 11 pm, when he calls it a night; turning off the lights and climbing back into his already warm bed, that he has barely left all day.

He sets an alarm for the next morning and flops down on his back.

As soon as he closes his eyes, there it is again. Himself and Even in Elias’ bathroom, and his boxers tent immediately.

He still can’t believe it _really_ happened, but apparently the memories of last night are _very real_ and _very vivid_ to his body, because he gets desperately aroused in no time, his erection slapping up hard against his stomach when he pushes his boxers down to mid-thigh. There’s a pearly drop of pre-cum beading at the tip already, and when he thumbs at the head to coax out more, his dick willingly obliges. Swiping his thumb through the sticky wetness, he starts stroking himself, replaying early this morning in his mind. This time he allows himself to remember the details; Even’s deep and hoarse “ _don’t stop_.” The way he’d cupped his crotch like showing off. His eyebrows drawing together and his lips dropping open, while he jerked himself off. His low-pitched moan when he came. _Fuck_.

It’s barely two minutes before Isak tips over the edge with a choked moan, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he comes over his hand in a pretty intense orgasm.

Afterwards he takes a few seconds to calm down, but the weird thing is that his body doesn’t really seem to calm down. He tries to just lie still and catch his breath, but he’s still so aroused, his whole body still buzzing with energy. His dick makes no move to go soft, either.

So, he experimentally skirts his fingers up and down his still-hard cock, shivering slightly when he reaches the head. It’s a little sensitive but _yeah_ , he’s definitely still horny.

He doesn’t bother cleaning himself up before starting right back up, closing his fist around himself again. He’s not quite as aggressively horny as before, so he takes his time this time, using his cum to slide his hand easily up his dick, pulling the smooth skin taut, imagining being back in Elias’ bathroom, only this time, in his mind, it’s Even slipping his hand into his boxers, touching him. Even’s hand making him come. Then he thinks about Even touching himself, his hand disappearing down his boxers. He wonders what his cock looks like. How it would feel in his hand. Would he be able to make Even come if he gave him a handjob?

It’s the thought of touching Even that makes him hitch a breath and tip over the edge for the second time; the orgasm even more intense than the first one, even if there isn’t nearly as much cum.

He wipes his sticky palm and his crotch with a Kleenex, throwing it on the floor before flopping back down on his back, blowing away a stray curl and then closing his eyes, trying for sleep.

∙

An hour later, he still hasn’t managed to fall asleep; still hella restless, even after jerking off twice.

His heart keeps pounding, as his thoughts loop.

What made Even join him in Elias’ bathroom?

What does it mean that just lying next to Even got him harder, than he’s ever been making out with any girl?

That he just came twice thinking about it? He’s never come twice in a row before...

That he can’t stop thinking about it? About _him_?

Is he gay now? Like, _gay_ -gay?

Is Even?

He keeps hearing Adam’s “ _no offense to guys who like dick, but I’ll never be into_ that _…”_ and Magnus’ “ _kinda gay…_ ” and Eva’s slurred but straight-up “ _…are you gay_?”

_Gay gay gay gay._

He stares up at the dark ceiling for a moment, trying to escape his thoughts, but they’re still so loud in his mind. So, he picks up the remote from the floor and turns the tv on again, hoping to drown out his thoughts and eventually dose off to sleep. He zaps back and forth on Netflix a bit before settling on Breaking Bad and ends up watching a couple of episodes.

∙

It’s almost 2 am when he turns the tv off, finally feeling tired and numb.

The minute he closes his eyes, his thoughts start spiraling again though, and he can’t turn them off. He gives up after ten minutes and leans over to pick up his phone from the floor to scroll through Facebook and Reddit hoping for another distraction. When he reaches the posts he’s already seen earlier today, he continues to _IFLScience_ and reads some random articles. Then he opens Instagram, mindlessly scrolling down his feed, liking a few pictures before stopping at a new post from Even from about an hour ago.

[It’s a close-up black and white drawing of an eye. Captioned "Watch me."](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/630977860876795904/watch-me)

He stares at the picture and the caption for a few long seconds, his heart going wild in his chest and his face heating up to a point where he feels almost feverish. It seems like all the blood in his body is migrating to either his face or his groin.

He studies the photo closer, trying to be rational, trying to calm the fuck down.

_Okay, it’s probably just a random eye. It must be. Or Sonja’s? Probably._

_Watch me,_ though _? What. The. Fuck._

He stares at the screen for a few moments longer before shakily double tapping the photo to like the post. Within three seconds his screen lights up with a dm from Even.

* * *

evbn  
active now

Do you like it?

I couldn’t get the green right tho, so I skipped out on coloring

The green?

Yeah. Your eyes.

They’re a mix between pale green and dark green with a splash of amber. All depends on the light

But do you like it? The drawing

Yes. I like it.

* * *

He doesn’t know what more to write, so he puts his phone down on his chest, heart racing just beneath the skin. Even drew _his_ eye. From memory. Captioned it “ _watch me.”_ The implications of that; the thought that Even must’ve been thinking about what they did last night too, makes his dick surge to a full erection, and he wraps his left hand around himself again, easily getting off for the fourth time that day.

It’s past 3 am when he finally falls asleep.

∙

The sound of his loud harp-melody alarm tone wakes him up less than four hours later, and he dazedly reaches his arm out to silence it, trying to blink his eyes open. He’s so fucking tired, it feels like he’s still nursing a hangover.

After some ten lazy minutes of bleary-eyed scrolling on his phone, he finally manages to drag himself out of bed, takes an overdue shower, gets dressed and walks to the tram. He almost falls asleep in the tram, but makes it to his stop, crossing the last 200 meters to Nissen with heavy steps. The exhaustion is real, so he decides to stop by the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, filling it with a couple of packets of sugar because he needs the kick from the sugar as well as the caffeine. 

He steps into the science lab two minutes before the bell rings, and plops down in a chair next to Sana.

She takes a quick look at him, raising her eyebrows slightly before pulling up _Science for first year_ and a notebook from her bag.

“ _What_?” he says. A bit testy, a lot tired.

“…Chill, Isabel. You just look tired.”

 _Oh_.

“Thanks.” He says back ironically, flipping the hood of his hoodie over his hair.

“…I heard you hung out with my brother Saturday night…” she says plainly, ignoring his sass, and Isak swallows around the sudden tightness in his throat at the thought of Saturday.

“Yeah…?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t have to know anything about the empty cases of beer and the half-empty bottle of vodka I found tucked away behind the fridge, would you?”

“Uh…” He says back, scratching the back of his neck, “…yeah, those were mine. And Jonas’ and Mags’. Elias didn’t drink.” he lies.

Sana looks at him for a second and then nods. Isak isn’t really sure she buys it, though.

“Who else were there?” she prods.

“Uh, Mikael, Adam and Mutta. And Even.”

She nods again, tapping her pen on her notebook. “What about Yousef?”

“Yousef?” Isak says. “…Uh, no. I don’t even know who that is.”

“Okay.” She says and then looks back up at him. “…So, how’s the tutoring going?”

“Um…” he shrugs. “…So so…”

She pulls a little smirk, her cheek dimpling. “I can imagine.”

∙

Some twenty minutes into class, while the teacher drones on about the exam next month, Isak’s phone vibrates against his thigh. He discreetly pulls it up.

 **New iMessage  
** **Even Bakka**

Seeing Even’s name on the lock screen gives him an immediate kick, by far surpassing the one he got from the sugar and caffeine in the coffee. He quickly unlocks his screen to read the text.

It’s a [weird Seinfeld meme](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/630980511152603137), that he has to google first, because the context is completely lost on him.

_Who the fuck even watches Seinfeld anyway?_

* * *

**Even Bakka  
** 10:24

Seinfeld? Just how old are you?

It’s a classic!

Whatever man

Pls don’t tell me you’ve never watched Seinfeld……

I’ve never watched Seinfeld.

WHAT

* * *

Even sends him another obscure Seinfeld meme and after that they launch into a meme-off; Even seemingly deliberately finding the oldest and lamest memes possible. Isak tells him so with a “ _wow, okay so you are old… Your meme game is weak._ ” And Even’s response is immediate; a whole string of even lamer memes. Isak snorts at his phone, eyebrows going up as it vibrates with meme after meme.

Sana clears her throat beside him, making him finally tear his eyes away from his phone to look at her. She’s raising her eyebrows at him, then looks pointedly at the teacher at the front of the class.

“ _What_?” he mouths irritably.

“Could you stop texting? It’s distracting.” She whispers.

“Whatever.” He whispers back, rolling his eyes at her.

“…Isak and Sana, is there anything you’d like to share with the class?” the teacher calls out, and they both look up.

He shakes his head lamely, while Sana confidently says “nope, nothing to share.”

“Okay. Well, please pay attention; this is important stuff if you plan to choose biology, chemistry or physics as electives next year.” The teacher’s voice is strict, and they both nod, Isak discreetly sliding his phone from his palm back into his jeans pocket. It’s only a few minutes before he draws it back up though, texting Even underneath the table, so Sana and the teacher won’t notice.

∙

After science class, he meets Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi in the cafeteria for lunch.

“Yo Issy.” Jonas smiles, and he nods back a “yo.”, as he plops down in a chair, his hand clutching his phone in his pocket. He’s still _so_ tired, but at the same time his body is wired from texting with Even.

“What’s up man? Still hungover or?” Jonas smiles at him before taking a bite of a sandwich.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Isak says in explanation, omitting how he lay awake half of the night thinking about Saturday and have spent the past hour texting with Even.

“Oh, fy faen, Saturday was so great.” Magnus then smiles and turns to Mahdi, “…sorry to say bro, but you missed _out_.”

“Yeah? What happened on Saturday?” Mahdi asks, “…weren’t you just chilling and playing FIFA…?” he says before biting into an apple.

“Yeah, we _were_ , but we ended up hanging out with those Bakka third-years Isak is tutoring…”

“Okay…?” Mahdi says.

“…It was a proper boys night, man. You should’ve been there.” Magnus smiles.

“…We smoked so much weed, that Mikael didn’t even have any left for me to buy…” Jonas says with a smirk, and Mahdi quirks a laugh at that. “…Sounds like a fun night.”

“It was.” Jonas confirms with a smile, and Isak zones out for a moment, pulling his phone up from his pocket to see that Even has sent him another lame meme. His fingers slide quickly over the screen to text him back.

“Yo, who are you texting, Issy?” Magnus then asks.

“Uh. Even.” He says back distractedly, eyes still on the screen.

“Yeah?” Jonas smirks. “…Is he trying to win you over, or?”

“Huh?” Isak says a bit perplexed, finally looking up from his screen “… _Win me over_?”

“Yeah, is he your new best friend or something?” Jonas jokes, nodding at Isak’s phone glued to his palm.

“Hah. Uh, no.” Isak snorts. “…No, he’s just sending me all these lame ass Seinfeld memes…”

“Seinfeld?” Jonas smiles, raising his eyebrows. “…Pretty old school.”

“Yeah.“ Isak says. “…and weird.” He raises an eyebrow pointedly before taking a sip of water. Then he returns to his phone.

“Aren’t you having lunch?” Jonas then asks.

“Uh, no, I’m not hungry.” Isak replies, eyes still on his phone, thumbs flying over his screen.

“Okay.” Jonas says somewhat skeptically. Isak can feel him looking at him, but he keeps his eyes on his screen.

∙

Come Tuesday night the texting has ramped up even more with Even sending him memes and _would you rather_ s and YouTube links to music videos, some of them long and artsy as fuck, bordering on short films.

“ _Keep up with me_.” Even had texted him on Sunday, so Isak tries.

Even makes no references to _the thing_ though, but keeps everything PG. So, at least there is that. Because Isak is so confused and flustered just from texting random shit with him, that he honestly doesn’t know how he’d react if Even started _sexting_ him. As it is, he’s still trying to figure out what _the thing_ on Saturday meant. 

They text back and forth for hours, and it ends up being another late night for Isak spent in a loop of thinking and texting and getting off, and once again it’s past 3 am before he goes to sleep. ~~~~

∙

The next morning, he’s beyond tired and distracted as he gets ready for school, but he _does_ remember to take a picture of his cast completely covered in Even’s drawings before having the cast removed at his doctor’s after school.

Wearing a cast on his right arm for four weeks has been dreadful, and hopefully he’ll never have to wear a cast ever again. Still, he kinda wants a photo to remember it. Even’s drawings especially. So, he takes a picture of his casted arm, posting it to his Insta profile with the caption “ _Skateboard_ _vs. Isak 1-0. Bye-bye cast._ ” Then he takes another photo - [a close-up of the little comic strip featuring himself and Even, that Even drew on the inside of his wrist](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/634570425138085888) \- saving it to his camera roll, before packing his backpack and heading to the tram for school.

He plops down in a window seat and pulls his phone up to a new dm from Even.

* * *

evbn  
active now

Finally getting rid of the cast?

Yup.  
Gonna miss your flashy artwork tho

Don’t worry, I’ll draw on you any time:):)

* * *

His heart flutters a bit at Even’s last message, his lips quirking into a smile before he slides his phone back into his pocket, leaning his flushing cheek against the cool tram window.

∙

He sits through a long and boring day of classes, unable to concentrate on anything – both from lack of sleep and just _thinking about stuff_. So, he spends most of the time zoning out and staring out the window or texting Even under the table. By 14:30 he’s finally done for the day and heads to the tram for his doctor’s appointment.

He makes it there just on time, stepping into the somewhat familiar waiting room of the family practice, that he’s been coming to since he was a kid. The doctor knows him as well as his sister Lea and his mom and dad. He briefly wonders how much she knows about his mom’s illness, though.

Picking up his phone to scroll Facebook and Insta to pass the time, he plops down in a chair, and a few minutes later, his name is called.

“Hi Isak, please take a seat.” His doctor smiles, as he walks into the consultation room and he nods back a “thanks.”

His doctor is a lady in her early fifties; her graying hair tied in a neat bun on top of her head, and a pair of tortoise glasses resting on her nose. She smiles at him as he sits down in a chair and shrugs out of his jacket and hoodie, draping them over the armrest.

“So, today is the big day…” she smiles, nodding at his cast.

“Yeah.” he says back, “…finally.”

“Yes, I can imagine it must’ve been quite a long four weeks.” She says. “…But at least you’ve had something to look at.” She smiles, looking at Even’s drawings for a moment.

“Yeah.” he nods. 

“…Well, if you’re ready, let’s get to it.” She smiles, standing up to pick up a little weird saw from another table.

“Yes, go for it.” He confirms, and she smiles. “…Do you want a picture before I remove the cast? To remember the drawings, maybe?”

“Nah, it’s fine, I already took one.” He says, and she nods before touching the saw to the cast and removing it.

His arm looks a little pale and skinny underneath the cast. Still, it’s nice to finally have his right arm back. He flexes his fingers and wiggles them a bit, trying to shake the slight pins-and-needles feeling.

“Have you been doing your exercises, Isak?” she asks him, while she examines his arm.

“Uh, yeah. Most of the time.” He says, and the doctor nods. “Good. Remember to keep doing the exercises during the next few weeks to build muscle and regain full muscle control.” She looks up at him and smiles. “…but you’re young, so your blood flow is in peak condition, and you’ll most likely not suffer any permanent damage.”

He nods, the thought of permanent damage not even crossing his mind for a minute before the doctor mentioned it.

“…but if you _do_ experience any lingering pain or weakness, be sure to make an appointment and I’ll refer you to a physical therapist.” She says, and Isak nods a quiet “yes.”, as the doctor turns to her computer screen to fill out his medical file.

“How are things at home, Isak?” she then asks him, as she swivels in her chair, turning back to him.

He drops his eyes to his hands resting in his lap.

“Uh. Good. Fine.”

“Yeah?” The doctor prods, looking at him over the tortoise glasses resting on her nose.

“Yes.” He lies.

“Okay.” She nods and looks at his face for a few long seconds, then drops the subject. “…Well, remember to do your exercises, and your arm should be back to normal within a month, maybe even before.”

“Yes. I will. Thanks.” He says and stands up, shrugging back into his hoodie and jacket. He nods a quick “bye and thank you” and then walks to the door.

His hand is on the door handle, when the doctor speaks up again.

“Remember you’re always welcome here if you want to talk, Isak.”

He turns to look at her. “Talk? About what?”

“Anything.” She says.

“Oh.” He says back feebly. “…Yeah, okay.”

For a split-second he considers telling her about the shitshow which is his life right now. The situation at home with his mom. And the fact that he can’t sleep, because he can’t turn off his thoughts.

He doesn’t say anything though, just turns back around and opens the door with a low “bye.”

“Take care, Isak.” She says, and then he’s out the door, and back outside on the street, snapping a quick boomerang video of himself wiggling his fingers sans cast. He captions it “ _Cast Away”_ and sends it to both Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi and the Bakka-guys.

* * *

 **The Crew  
** 15:03

Jonas: Congrats on losing the cast IssyK

Magnus: Now you can jerk off again

Mahdi: @Magnus Lol like the guy hasn’t jerked off in four weeks……

Magnus: @Isak did you learn to jerk off with your left hand??

Mahdi: Duh

What Mahdi said…

Jonas: Lol

* * *

He’s about to slide his phone down his pocket when it beeps with messages from his other group chat with Even, Elias and Mikael.

* * *

 **Passing physics inshallah  
** 15:05

Elias: Mashallah Isak

Mikael: About time

Even: Great caption btw………

Hey at least I didn’t caption it with some obscure Seinfeld meme

Mikael: Lol burn

* * *

Then his phone beeps with a new text from Even, and he closes his Facebook messenger app to open the text.

* * *

 **Even Bakka  
** 15:06

So how are you gonna celebrate losing your cast?

* * *

Isak’s mind immediately strays.

He can’t figure out, if Even just made a reference to him jerking off, or if it’s all in his frustratingly horny mind. He types back a quick reply, playing it safe.

* * *

 **Even Bakka  
** 15:06

Dunno yet. Beat everyone in FIFA I guess…

I think you should have a proper celebration

Got any suggestions?

Lots.

* * *

Isak’s cheeks instantly heat up at Even’s message. That _must be_ a reference to jerking off. Right?

The thought sends a rush of blood between his legs, and he speed-walks to the tram and hurries home, beelining for his room. He quickly toes out of his sneakers and dumps his jacket and backpack in a heap beside his bed before flopping down on his back, slipping his right hand into his boxers.

It’s a sweet relief to finally be able to use his dominant hand again, and he comes quickly, the image of Even’s hand sliding into his own boxers, and his lips dropping open in pleasure as he made himself come, still playing on repeat in his mind.

∙

He spends the rest of the day in his room, trying to ignore his mom’s footsteps around the house, and her talking out loud to herself about _God_ and _Our Savior_.

At one point he considers texting Jonas to hang out at his place, but he decides against it, feeling like he has stayed over at Jonas’ plenty recently. So instead he settles deeper against the pillows in his bed and turns the volume up as he watches yet another episode of Breaking Bad.

Around 9 pm, he pads into the kitchen for something to eat because he feels kinda lightheaded and nauseous. His body feels strange and buzzing, and he doesn’t really feel hungry, but he guesses he should eat, anyway. He hasn’t really eaten anything the last few days, so…

When he opens the fridge, it’s practically empty though. Except for a few cartons of week-old milk and some rotten vegetables. He pours the milk out in the sink and dumps the vegetables in the trash. His hand is slightly shaky when he pulls out an almost empty box of cereal from a cabinet, settling for eating the rest of the box with water instead of milk.

He brings the bowl of cereal back to his room and plops back down in his bed, pressing play on another episode of Breaking Bad.

He zones out for a while, and eventually doses off for some twenty minutes. He snaps awake at a beep from his phone, though and is wide-awake in a matter of seconds.

* * *

 **Even Bakka  
** 22:22

What are you doing?

Just chilling at home. Why?

Look outside

* * *

He almost _jumps_ up from his bed, heart already pounding in his chest as he crosses the couple of steps to his window and looks out.

 _What_.

He quickly shrugs into a hoodie, puts on a snapback and grabs his jacket, phone and keys while he toes into his sneakers. Then he hurries to the front door, closing it behind him as quickly and silently as possible.

“Hey, what are you doing he-“

“I think we should celebrate you losing your cast.” Even says with a beaming smile, resting his hand on the saddle of his bike.

“Uh, what?” Isak says back dumbly, his heart racing from seeing Even. Outside his fucking house, no less.

“It’s a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Even says. “…Smells like spring.”

”Uh…Sure.” Isak squints at him. ”…Are you high or something?”

”Maybe.” Even smiles, eyes glinting. ”…So, wanna get outta here?”

There’s a beat of silence between them.

Then Isak answers a simple “yes.”

Even beams at him. “Well, hop on then.” He nods at the baggage carrier on the back of his bike, and Isak straddles the bike, sitting down on the cold metal. Even gets on too, and then he kicks off, riding down the street and continuing down a pretty steep hill. He lets go of the handlebars for a second, spreading his arms wide with a laugh and Isak grabs onto the metal of the carrier between his thighs.

“Oi! Don’t crash the bike!” he squeaks, “…I just lost the cast, I’m not about to break my arm again!”

Even grabs onto the handlebars again, sending him a quick look over his shoulder. ”Don’t worry, I’d never crash the bike with you on it.”

“Okay.” Isak says back lamely, and there’s a beat of silence between them, as they run a yellow light and Isak’s knuckles go white with the effort to hold on to the metal underneath him.

He then realizes that he has no clue where they are going. He doesn’t even really care, but he asks anyway.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Even smiles as they pick up speed, heading downhill towards downtown Oslo. 

∙

They come to a stop outside the botanical garden, and Isak skeptically gets off the bike. Even gets off too and leans the bike against a tree on the street, then turns back to him with a blinding smile.

“Botanical garden?” Isak asks, raising an eyebrow. “…Isn’t it closed by now?”

“So?” Even smiles, pulling a quick shrug.

“So what, you want to break into the botanical garden?” Isak says, lips quirking into an incredulous smile, because _what_?

“We’re not _breaking in_ …” Even says, his eyebrows drawing together with a smile. “…It’s ours. It’s all ours.”

He climbs up the metal fence and jumps down on the other side, looking out at Isak through the metal bars.

“You coming?” he asks raising his eyebrows in a challenge, and Isak takes the bait because _fuck it._

He climbs up the fence determinedly. It’s a bit of a hassle though, even if Even made it look easy. Well, being 6’4’’ probably helps.

Eventually he makes it over and jumps down, landing next to Even, who sends him a blinding smile.

“Wow, so elegant.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Isak snarks back. He can’t help smiling though.

∙

The botanical garden is completely empty, dark and quiet save for the muted sounds of traffic outside. It’s so calm, it’s kinda eerie.

“What are we… what are we doing here?” Isak asks, lips quirking into a smile at the absurdity of being alone with Even in the botanical garden at 11 pm.

“We’re celebrating.” Even says _like duh_. He turns right down a gravel walkway.

“Yes, you said that...” Isak smiles back, following Even. “…Why _here_ , though?”

“Why not?” Even says with another blinding smile. “C’mon…” he goes off-road, crossing over a large grass lawn and a rock bed. Isak notices the little sign.

_Don’t step on the rocks._

He follows him anyway, and they come up to a large greenhouse with cannabis plants growing right outside the glass walls, and Even picks off a perfect cannabis leave.

“Oi.” Isak smirks. “…Didn’t know there was weed in the botanical garden…”

“Wanna try smoking it?” Even smiles with raised eyebrows, twirling the stem between his fingers before lifting the leaf to his nose to smell it.

“Uh…” Isak wavers, reading a little metal plaque outside the greenhouse. _Cannabis Sativa, hemp_.

“…Uh, we can’t smoke it Even, it’s hemp...” He says. “…Or, like, we _can_ , but it won’t get us high. The THC content is super low.”

“ _Hemp?_ ” Even snorts a laugh. _“…_ What the fuck? Well, good thing I brought the real thing, then.” he smirks, drawing up a joint from the chest pocket of his denim jacket.

“Nice.” Isak smiles appreciatively, and they both plop down on the grass lawn, Even lighting up the joint and taking a single deep drag to burn the paper before handing the joint to over Isak. 

“Here’s to you getting your hand back.” he smirks.

“Fucking finally.” Isak nods in agreement, taking a long drag of the joint to keep from thinking about the possible innuendo of what Even just said.

∙

“…Did you know that there are both male and female cannabis plants?” Even asks a while later, after they have both flopped down onto their backs in the grass, passing a second joint between them in the cool April air.

“Huh?”

“Yeah.” Even nods. “…Did you know?”

“No, I didn’t…” Isak inhales. “…know that.”

“Yeah, Mikael told me a few years ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Like, nature is so weird. And I keep wondering what’s the difference between them, like, would I even be able to tell the difference? Like, if I were to smoke the same strand of weed, but a male versus a female? What would I choose? You know.” Even asks, but it doesn’t really sound like a question. He takes another drag of the joint.

“Hm.” Isak says, not really following Even. Maybe he should’ve eaten more than a bowl of cereal with water today. Maybe he’s just too high to keep up.

“Nature is so fucking magical, don’t you think?” Even says excitedly. “…Botanical magical.”

“Uh, sure.” Isak says, stealing a glance at Even’s profile.

“…Have you ever been up north? Like, Tromsø?” Even then asks, looking up at the Oslo night sky. “…It’s so fucking stunning up there. The mountains, the fjords, the stars, the darkness and the light. Have you ever seen the midnight sun?”

“Uh, no.” Isak says, struggling to keep up with him.

“I think you’d like it.” Even smiles. “…It’s _so_ beautiful, like summer solstice but for months on end. Nothing but light.”

“I do like summer solstice.” Isak admits.

“Me too.” Even beams.

“It’s my birthday, actually. 21 June.” Isak says, and Even turns his face to look at him, his eyes shining, even in the darkness of the garden. “For real?”

“Yeah.” Isak nods. “21 June, 1999.”

Even’s smile grows impossibly wider. “Oh my God, that’s…fucking amazing!” 

“What?” Isak snorts a perplexed laugh at Even’s enthusiasm. It’s like a secret he’s not in on.

“Nothing nothing.” Even says quickly. He’s still smiling, eyes flitting over Isak’s face, dropping to his lips for a couple of seconds, and for a moment Isak thinks he’s going to lean in and kiss him. He doesn’t though, just drags his eyes back up to meet Isak’s, and Isak meets them for a second before looking away, because it’s too fucking intense lying in the grass with Even’s shining eyes looking at him like _that_. He can feel his heart in his throat.

“’99, though…” Even then says, eyes crinkling. “…Shit, I’d almost forgotten how young you are.”

“Pfft.” Isak frowns, “I’m turning 17 in a couple of months, what are you, 18?”

“19.” Even smiles. “…February 12, 1997.”

“Okay 19, then. But, still...” Isak says feebly.

“ _So_ _young_.” Even says, and Isak rolls his eyes. His lips quirk into a smile, though.

Even finishes the last of the joint, and then crunches up. He’s on his feet in a few seconds, full 6’4’’ towering over Isak, who lazily half-sits up, resting back on his elbows to dazedly look up at him from under the bill of his snapback.

“Come walk with me?” Even smiles, stretching his hand out, and it takes Isak a couple of seconds to word a dazed “sure”.

He lets Even pull him up by clasping his right hand in his, dropping his hand as soon as he’s on his feet. For a moment he’s tempted to hold on to Even’s warm hand, but he doesn’t. Yeah, that would probably be hella weird anyway.

They cross back over the rockbed, and Even pulls up a pack of gum from his jeans pocket and pops one in his mouth.

“Want one?” he smiles.

“Uh huh.” Isak nods back, eyes for a moment stuck on Even’s mouth, and Even takes out another piece, handing it to him. Isak pops it into his mouth, the synthetic strawberry taste almost sickly sweet on his tongue. 

“…Come on, let’s go smell the rhododendron bushes.” Even says enthusiastically, and Isak snorts a laugh. “ _What_? _Rhododendron_?”

“Yes.” Even nods, turning left down another gravel walkway.

∙

“I wish it could always be like this. Just like this.” Even smiles spreading his arms wide and doing a pivot on a large grass lawn dotted with rhododendron bushes.

“Like what?” Isak asks slightly confused.

“Exactly like this.” Even beams.

∙

They walk aimlessly around the empty garden for another thirty minutes, before a guard doing his rounds notices them.

“Hey! You can’t be in here, we’re closed!” the guard yells, as he shines his flashlight on them, and Isak doesn’t have time to think before Even grabs his hand with a laugh and a “come on!”

Despite being high as fuck, they are both pretty fast and with a definite advantage of being younger, taller and more athletic than the slightly overweight park guard; long legs quickly carrying them away and towards the metal fence they scaled to get in.

They quickly make it to the fence, and Even scales it first, plopping down on the other side, with Isak following; the adrenaline of almost getting caught making him faster and stronger than when he scaled the same fence to get in a few hours ago. He jumps down next to Even, and Even grabs his hand again, as they take off down the pavement, running down the street and turning a corner to get away from the garden and the guard. Even’s laugh is deep and loud in the relative quiet of the street.

“Shiiiiiiiit!!” Isak huffs out breathlessly, when they finally slow down and come to a stop some streets over. He bends over, hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Even just keeps laughing, throwing his head back.

∙

Isak is still high on adrenaline, when they make it back to Even’s bike and get on, swerving down the street, heading back to Grefsen.

He splays his fingers over the denim of Even’s jacket, the wind whipping at his hair and his cheeks, and his heart beating hard in his chest for the full fifteen minutes back to his house.

∙

They eventually come to a halt in the driveway to his house with Even clutching the handbrakes hard. The sound of the bike tires against the gravel of the driveway loud on the otherwise quiet street.

“Oi!” Isak laughs, as he surges forward from the hard stop, instinctively wrapping his arms around Even’s chest to keep his balance. “…Watch it!”

“Sorry!!” Even laughs, his deep laugh echoing on the quiet street.

Isak takes a deep breath, then he lets go of Even’s chest and jumps off the bike. Even gets off too, kicking down the kickstand of the bike, and then they’re face to face outside his house.

Even smiles; his eyes crinkling into tiny crescent moons, as he flits his eyes over his face.

And Isak’s lips quirk into a shy smile on their own accord, his cheeks starting to flush from Even looking at him like that. He drops his eyes to the ground.

“So.” He says to break the loaded silence, kicking lightly at the gravel beneath his feet.

“So.” Even says back, and Isak can still feel his eyes on him. He swallows drily, unable to meet his eyes.

There’s another moment of silence before Isak clears his throat.

“Well uh, goodnight Even.” he says with a little awkward nod and then tries to move his feet and get them to carry him to his front door.

He only makes it a single step though, before Even grabs his right wrist, pulling him towards him, making him turn back and almost crash into him. Even steadies him with a hand on his waist and then his lips are on his.

It happens so fast, that Isak’s high and fuzzy brain has exactly _zero_ time to prepare for the chemical explosion in his body set off by kissing Even.

His mind basically short-circuits, and he’s frozen on the spot, tight-lipped for a moment, before his heart goes wild in his chest and an intense heat spreads throughout his entire body, as Even pulls him closer by the waist. 

He sucks in a shaky breath through his nose and then kisses Even back, opening his lips a bit, suddenly desperate to taste him.

He can feel Even smiling against his lips, and then his lips part for him, the tip of his tongue touching his.

He tastes like strawberry gum and weed and something else, which makes Isak crazy with want. He can’t feel his feet anymore; all his blood surging towards his groin and his cheeks, making him feel almost feverish again.

∙

Kissing Even is. Everything.

He can’t believe it’s actually happening; that he’s kissing the lips he’s been thinking about for months. And it feels so amazing and all-consuming, that it takes Isak a couple of seconds to notice, that something’s wrong. When he does see it out of the corner of his eyes - the lights turning on in his house - he _panics._

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

He reflexively pushes Even away with a hand on his chest, making him stumble a step back, and then he stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, lips open, his heart in his throat.

He wants to run away, but his feet turn around and carry him the few steps to his front door on autopilot.

“Go. Please.” He chokes out. Then he grabs the door handle and pushes the door open.  
He doesn’t turn back to look at Even.

His mom is livid when he enters; screaming bible verses at him before he even closes the door behind him, and the first thing he thinks about, is how much of it Even can hear; did he already leave, or is he still out there listening to his crazy mom screaming at him.

“Who are you, _what_ are you? What have you done with my beautiful son? You’re a devil, a devil!” she wails.

“What?” Isak asks feebly, and that’s when she grabs onto his shoulders and starts shaking him desperately.

“What have you done to him, what have you done to him, what-“ she’s choking on her own words, and Isak tries to shake her off, tries to move past her to get to her bedroom and pick up her Valium, because something’s…not right.

As he tries to move past her, she slaps him hard over the cheek, and he’s frozen on the spot again. This time in chock.

He stares back open-mouthed, but there’s no sign of remorse or chock showing on her face, and she picks back up calling him _a sinner and a devil and an infidel, who’ll be punished for his impure mind and-_.

He pushes past her heading for his room; he’s much taller and stronger than her, and this time he doesn’t tip-toe around her. He powers through and makes it to his room, locking the door behind him with the tears stinging in his eyes and quickly tosses some clothes, his laptop and some schoolbooks into his backpack. He leaves out his window, easily making the jump down to the roof of the garage and then onto the pavement. 

∙

He runs to Jonas’ place, making it in ten minutes flat, then hunches over, looking up at the dark house while trying to catch his breath.

With a shaky hand he pulls his phone up and calls Jonas, hoping that he’s home and not at Isabel’s. 

He clutches the phone to his ear and lets out a relieved sigh when Jonas picks up after a few rings.

“Isak? Is everything okay?”

“Um. No. Not really.” He chokes out, his throat tight with the strain of trying to hold back tears. “…I’m outside your house, can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course. Just a sec.” Jonas says unwaveringly and then he hangs up, emerging bare-chested in boxers in his front door some twenty seconds later. 

“Hey Is, come in.”

“Thanks.” Isak mutters and quietly follows Jonas inside and up the stairs to his room, setting down his backpack, taking off his sneakers and shrugging out of his jacket.

“So, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Jonas asks bleary-eyed, dark curls in total disarray, and Isak realizes that he must’ve woken him up.

“Uh. My mother happened.” He replies, snorting a self-deprecating laugh to keep from crying.

“What do you mean?” Jonas says worriedly.

“She went full-on psycho.“ He almost flinches at his own words. “...She hit me.” He then says, leaving out everything else; walking around the botanical garden with Even, the kiss and his mother’s hate speech. “…And I just…” he takes a second to breathe. “…couldn’t deal with her anymore.” He can feel the tears well up behind his eyelids, so he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Issy.” Jonas says, tentatively placing a hand on his back. Isak just nods, dropping his gaze to his feet.

“…Can I stay here? Just for a few days?” he says quietly, hating to ask Jonas this, but he honestly has nowhere else to go.

“Of course, Issy.” Jonas says, and Isak nods gratefully. “Thank you. Sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jonas says plainly.

∙

Half an hour later, after they have talked a little bit, and he has ensured Jonas that he can go back to sleep - _it’s fine_ \- he’s lying quietly on the air mattress, staring at the ceiling. His heart is still pounding, his stomach in knots, as the image of Even’s face when he pushed him mix with his mother’s livid face and her word repeating in his mind.

_What have you done to him, what have you done to my son?_

He squeezes his eyes closed to stop the tears from trickling down.

∙

An hour later, he still hasn’t managed to fall asleep, so he picks up his phone from the pocket of his discarded jeans on the floor. There are several texts from his mom, all incoherent bible verses.

No texts from Even.

He closes his text app and opens Instagram, scrolling mindlessly. He only makes it five posts down, before stumbling upon a new post from Even. It’s a dark green square, no caption. The next post in his feed is also a post from Even; another green square, slightly different in color from the other one. He confusedly scrolls some 20 posts down, and it’s all slightly different shades of green.

_What?_

Then he navigates to Even’s profile, which is now completely overtaken by green, looking like some kind of Pantone colour card. Except for the latest post, posted less than a minute ago.

It’s a hand-written bible quote. Something about _doing good_ and _God saw that it was good_.

Isak feels his heart drop to his stomach, a wave of nausea sending chills down his spine, as he stares at the post. While his eyes are locked on the post, Even uploads another one. It’s another hand-written bible verse.

_So, he did hear it. The screaming. The hate speech._

Isak lets the phone slide from his hand to the mattress as he gets up and quickly makes it to the bathroom to throw up.

He heaves into the toilet, but nothing comes up.

Still, the feeling of nausea won’t go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: internalized homophobia, explicit homophobia, mental illness, mild violence, angst.
> 
> Sorry 💔


	9. Psycho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Insomnia, texting, a fight and angst™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Mania, ableism, violence, heavy angst.

The next morning is brutal.

Jonas’ alarm, a loud cacophony of sounds, wakes them both up at 6:30 am and for the first few seconds Isak is confused as to where he is. Then he recognizes Jonas’ room and is left with a heavy grogginess; his head and body refusing to wake up, feeling like he only just fell asleep minutes ago. Maybe he did. Who the fuck knows.

Jonas silences the alarm with a groan and flops onto his other side, postponing the whole getting-up-for-school a little bit, and Isak groggily blinks his eyes open, trying to force his brain and body to wake up.

There’s a short moment where he doesn’t think about last night. Where the only thing he feels is exhaustion. But then it all comes flooding back; walking around the botanical garden with Even last night, almost getting caught by a guard, the kiss and the lights going on in his house. His mom seeing them. Her crazy rambling. The slap across his face. Even’s weird Insta posts.

A heavy feeling of uneasiness settles in his stomach, his fingers shaky when he picks up his phone from the floor beside him and slides open the lock screen. There are Facebook notifications and a whole string of texts from Even; and his heart rate picks up when he scrolls through them; song lyrics and weird bible verses all jumbled together. They remind him a whole lot of the kind of texts his mom sends him, well except for the song lyrics, and also, Even’s texts aren’t aggressive or hateful like his mom’s. If anything, they are kind.

But still. He honestly doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on. Even must’ve heard his mom’s rambling through the door, that much is clear to him. He must’ve heard the Bible references. But why is he texting him bible quotes? And posting them on Insta and Facebook?

Isak scrolls through the texts one more time; too tired and confused to make sense of it. Is Even fucking with him? He must be. Why the fuck else would he send him all those weird texts…Are the bible quotes a cruel way to make fun of him, humiliating him because his mom is crazy?

Was the kiss all a joke to him? It didn’t feel like a joke; the thought of how soft his lips felt still makes Isak’s heart skip a beat. 

Or - and this is what really sets his heart racing and makes him swallow around a lump in his throat – what if Even isn’t fucking with him. What if he’s going crazy? Just like his mom.

He feels the bile rise to his throat again. He can’t deal with this right now. He just can’t. So, he sits frozen on the air mattress, phone clutched in his hand still open on Even’s string of messages, while he stares at nothing, trying to ignore the whole thing.

Jonas’ alarm goes off again then, after what must’ve been a few minutes on snooze, and as Jonas lazily turns it off and crunches up to sitting position, Isak finally snaps out of his stupor and locks his phone, letting it slide from his hand down on the air mattress.

“’Mornin’” Jonas says, rubbing sleep from his eyes before looking over at him, eyes widening a little like only then remembering _shit yeah, you showed up here in the middle of the night_.

“Did you sleep okay?” he then asks, and Isak appreciates him for not asking if he’s okay, ‘cause he’s close to breaking down as it is. It feels like his brain and his chest are both about to explode.

“Uh, yeah. Somewhat.” He says back hoarsely, and Jonas just nods. 

“Do you wanna shower first?” Jonas asks him, and he gives a weak nod in return, then drags himself up from the air mattress and pads to the bathroom to take a shower, that will hopefully wake him up.

Feeling the hot water cascade down over his tired body somewhat helps, but only for some fifteen minutes. Afterwards he skips out on breakfast and follows Jonas to the tram in a zombie-like daze, making it to school just in time for the first class of the day – Norwegian for both of them. He lets Jonas lead the way to the B building and push the door open for him while he just follows blindly, spending every ounce of energy to not collapse on school grounds.

∙

The first new message from Even comes through as soon as he’s sat down on a chair next to Jonas, flipping open his Norwegian textbook. While he’s looking at his screen, another message comes through and then another one. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jonas glancing over at him and his phone, before he slides it into his pocket. 

∙

45 minutes later, when the bell signals recess, he pulls up his phone again to 17 unread messages. His stomach lurches uncomfortably, and he decides to ignore the texts for now, sliding his phone back into his pocket as he stands up and follows Jonas to the cafeteria, where Magnus and Mahdi are already seated around a table. He plops down in a chair and greets them with a half-assed handclap and then promptly zones out, as the guys dig into lunch and a conversation that jumps from the Champions League quarter finals to Narcos to where the party is happening on Friday, and which girls Magnus would like to hook up with.

Out of reflex Isak picks up his phone from his pocket, and besides the 17 unread messages from Even, he now also has 2 missed calls from his father. He debates ignoring those as well, but ultimately stands up with a heavy sigh and tells the guys that he’s going for a piss. 

He trudges down the school hall to find the bathroom furthest from the cafeteria, then shuts the door to the stall behind him and leaning his back against the door, he calls his father.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, Isak, how are you?”

His father’s voice sounds distant, and Isak snorts a disbelieving, dry laugh at his father’s nerve to ask him _how are you?_

“I’m great, dad. Just. _Great_.” He spits, his voice practically dripping with anger and irony, because holy _shit_ , he’s so far from okay, barely hanging on for dear life, while the whole fucking proverbial ship is going down in front on his eyes.

“Your mother called me and said that you, uh-“

 _What?_ What _did she say?_

The thought that his mom has called his dad, rambling about him kissing a boy outside the house, sends chills down his spine. He’s so not having this conversation right now.

“You know what, dad?” he says, cutting his father short, “…Mom is sick.”

“Yes-“

“So, I’m gonna stay at Jonas’ for a while. But, uh…” He chokes out the next words: “…She needs help.”

“Yes, I-“

“…And you’re the one who left, so… that’s on you.” He says weakly, scraping the sole of his sneaker in a little circle on the tiled floor.

There’s silence on the line for a few seconds, and Isak doesn’t know what else there is to say. Then his dad speaks up. “I’ll make sure to vipps you money regularly from now on. For food and clothes and whatever you need.”

Isak nods silently.

“…And I’ll visit your mother today. Get her the help she needs.”

“Yeah, you should.” Isak says back plainly, then takes a breath. “Bye.”

“Bye, Isak, take car-“

He ends the call before his dad finishes the sentence.

∙

The texts from Even keep coming all through the rest of his school day, and a little after 15:00, just after his last class has ended and he’s walking next to Jonas heading to his house, Even’s name lights up his lock screen with a call.

**Incoming call from Even Bakka**

Isak stares at the screen, slowing his steps so much that Jonas slows down too, frowning slightly as he looks from the phone clutched in Isak’s hand up to his face.

“What’s up, man? You okay?” he asks, a worried edge to his voice.

“Uh. Yeah. It’s nothing.” Isak says, as he presses _decline call_ and slides his phone back into his pocket.

“Okay.” Jonas says, and there’s a heavy silence between them as they continue walking towards Jonas’ house. He knows Jonas is not gonna prod, and he knows that he in turn won’t tell him. What should he tell him anyway?

_You know Even, right? Well, basically I’ve been, I dunno, crushing on him, I guess, for the past five months, and uh remember Saturday when we crashed at Elias’? Well, Even and I watched each other get off in the bathroom while yall were asleep, and last night we broke into botanical garden and got high and talked for hours, well Even talked mostly, then we almost got caught by a guard and then Even kissed me outside my house, and it was so fucking amazing and for a second I thought he might have feelings for me too, but then my mom saw it and I fucking panicked and I pushed him away as my mom started screaming homophobic shit at me and slapped me across the face, and now Even is sending me all these weird fucking texts with bible verses and song lyrics and I don’t know whether he’s fucking with me or he’s gone crazy, so yeah…_

Right.

They make it to Jonas’ house in silence, and both hang up their jackets in the corridor before wordlessly padding to Jonas’ room, where Jonas turns on his PlayStation and looks at him with a smiley “…wanna play Call of Duty? Now you even got your right hand back and everything… maybe your sniper skills will actually improve…”

Isak’s lips pull into a little smile, both at the jab and out of gratitude for the opportunity to immerse himself in a brainless game.

“Sure.” He nods, plopping down on the bed, pulling one leg up under him and accepting a controller from Jonas.

“…By the way, my sniper skills are excellent.”

“Yeah?” Jonas smiles. “Let’s see then, Issy.”

∙

His sniper skills are _shit_. That much is clear after a few hours of aggressively playing Call of Duty. And it’s good. It’s perfect actually; the game is loud, fast-paced and violent, and he has to allocate all his energy to keep up, to try to perfect his sniper skills. It’s fucking _perfect_.

∙

The second they stop gaming though, and Jonas turns the tv off, Isak’s heart plummets and he’s back to thinking about. _Everything_.

When he pulls up his phone from his jeans pocket, there are 3 unanswered calls from Even and more texts, and he knows that he can’t ignore him forever. Also, there’s a part of him desperate to talk to him; to find out, what the fuck is going on. 

So, he excuses himself - and clutching his phone in his clammy palm - he goes to the bathroom to take a piss, then washes his hands and stares at himself in the mirror for a few moments before determinedly pulling his phone back up. Taking a deep breath, he opens his text conversation with Even, scrolling through his unread texts. Most of them are more bible quotes and, what he suspects are song lyrics. Something about speeding through red lights and running away together.

He feels a vague flutter in his chest, and then

**Incoming call from Even Bakka**

His heart jumps in surprise and he’s so nervous he almost drops his phone from his sweaty palm, but he does manage to press _accept_ and lift the phone to his ear.

“Hei” he says unsurely, voice going up a bit at the end like it’s a question. 

“Isak!” Even says happily, and Isak’s heart starts beating faster just from hearing Even’s deep voice. 

“Uh, hey.” He says back, trying to keep his voice down in Jonas’ bathroom, so Jonas won’t overhear the conversation. Also, he doesn’t know how to address the whole thing; the something like 50 texts Even has sent him the past 24 hours, the weird Instagram and Facebook posts, all the bible verses and lyrics. The kiss, and the fact that he pushed him away. His mom screaming at him.

Before he even gets a word out, Even excitedly beats him to it.

“Listen, I’ve figured it out!” he says, sounding almost breathless with enthusiasm. “…I’ve figured it all out, baby!”

 _Baby_. Isak swallows around the tightness in his throat. _What the-_

“… _Baby_ , oh my God, you _are_ a baby!” Even then says with a fond laugh, before continuing to tell him about how he’s been reading the Bible and about God and _what’s good_ , and how _it can’t be wrong, it just can’t_ , then going into riddles and signs and the meaning of the numbers 2 and 1 and how they should just run away together, really, it would be for the best, cuz Isak deserves better than her and-

And just like that, the fluttering in Isak’s chest is gone and replaced by dread. Something’s not right. Even sounds _weird_.

“Uh, Even? What’s going on?” he tests, trying to figure out, if Even is fucking with him. If this is all just one major joke to him; a way to properly fuck with his mind, to royally humiliate him for being into guys and for having a crazy mom, obsessed with the Bible.

But Even doesn’t hear him, he’s talking way too fast and way too loud, words jumbling together, as he jumps between seemingly unrelated topics, and it’s impossible for Isak to keep up.

He sounds so fucking _weird_ , but not at all like he’s joking. And that’s when Isak realizes it for certain; like little pieces of a puzzle coming together in his mushy mind.

Why Even joined him in Elias’ bathroom, why he went out for a walk at 5 am instead of sleeping, all the late-night texting, breaking into botanical garden last night. The Instagram and Facebook posts. The kiss. 

An onslaught of shame and grief forms a tight knot in his stomach, and it’s painful, like he can’t breathe, like it’s trying to suffocate him.

His throat closes up and he can’t get any words out, so he hangs up without a word, his hand properly shaking when he pockets his phone. Tears well up into his eyes until they are replaced with dark spots behind his eyelids, and he feels faint, like he’s just about to collapse on Jonas’ bathroom floor.

∙

Sometime later, he honestly doesn’t know how long he’s been in Jonas’ bathroom, there’s a light knock on the door, and Jonas’ voice comes through. “Hey, Is? Are you okay?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Okay…” Jonas says unsurely. There’s a second of silence and then he continues. “…Well, my mom just called out that dinner was ready, so… Just come join, when you’re ready…” He says softly.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Isak manages feebly and after a couple of minutes of splashing cold water in his face to wash away the dried tears, he makes it down the stairs to the kitchen to join Jonas and his family at the dinner table. He doesn’t eat though. The knot in his stomach barely allows him to breathe.

∙

Even keeps texting him for the rest of the evening, through the night and the next day too; sending him more lyrics about running away, explaining to him how he’ll take his parents’ car and come pick him up, and they’ll just drive, and he’ll _save him_. And Isak is so tired and heartbroken, that for a split-second it makes his exhausted heart flutter with something akin to hope, before he remembers that Even doesn’t mean any of it; that he’s not into him, he’s just _crazy_.

So, with shaky fingers, he sends Even a “stop texting me.” and Even finally stops. He keeps posting stuff on Insta and Facebook though, and Isak’s heart keeps breaking a little every time he sees a new bible quote on Even’s profile.

∙

The next morning, Even’s Instagram- and Facebook profile are both gone, and somehow Isak’s heart breaks even more as he keeps refreshing Facebook and Instagram futilely searching for Even’s deleted profiles.

Jonas eyes him suspiciously when he finally gives up and lets his phone drop from his hand down onto the air mattress. And Isak refuses to meet his eyes, beginning to wonder, if Jonas is starting to catch onto something. To the fact that what’s making him hurt so bad isn’t as much his mom as it is the thing with Even. But then again, Jonas doesn’t know anything about him and Even.

 _There is no you and Even,_ he remembers, and it makes his throat tight.

Jonas doesn’t say anything though, so Isak doesn’t either, just gets up from bed and goes through the morning routines on auto-pilot, blindly following Jonas’ lead, trudging after him to the tram and to school.

∙

At school everything is hazy, and he isn’t able to concentrate in any of his classes; his heart having set up shop in his throat permanently. Still, he somehow gets through the school day, but when his classes end at 14:00, a whole hour before Jonas’, he’s struck with crippling inertia. For some ten minutes he just sits on a bench outside of school, staring at the horizon not knowing what to do, where to go.

Then he dazedly decides to stop by his own house to pick up some more clothes and the rest of his schoolbooks, and he shakily stands up from the bench and make his way to the tram for the short ride to his house.

Walking up the driveway to his house is almost physically painful; he can so vividly remember kissing Even and then subsequently pushing him away. His mom’s reaction – her hateful words and the slap across his cheek. Okay, so maybe coming back here wasn’t the best of ideas, but he _does_ need more clean clothes and the rest of his schoolbooks. If Jonas is okay with it, he’s planning on staying at his house for the rest of the week. Maybe longer.

So, he takes a steadying breath outside the front door to his house, then unlocks it and steps inside. The house is blissfully silent, and he lets out a long breath before quietly padding to his room. There he opens his closet and packs some clothes into his backpack. Then he picks up the rest of his schoolbooks and dumps them in his backpack too. He takes a look around his room, trying to decide what else to bring, but he can’t figure out what. He ends up just grabbing Jonas’ red Obey snapback off his desk, putting it on, and then walking out, closing the door to his room behind him.

He makes a quick stop to the bathroom to grab his toothbrush and deodorant, and maybe a shampoo. As he opens the bathroom cabinet to find his toothbrush, his eyes settle on a couple of pill bottles. He sets his backpack on the floor and picks up one of the bottles.

_Zyprexa. 5 mg._

It looks brand-new. He turns the pill bottle in his hand, reading the label.

_Marianne Valtersen_

_1 tablet before bedtime_

He puts it back in the cabinet and picks up the other pill bottle.

_Valium. 5 mg._

_Marianne Valtersen_

_1 tablet daily before bedtime for insomnia_

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, remembering how one pill had knocked his mom out back in November, just after his dad left and she had been crying for 8 hours straight.

Spinning the bottle in his palm a couple of times, he debates whether or not to snag a few pills.

It’s not like she’s gonna miss a couple of pills, is it? But he needs to fucking sleep. Badly. Can’t remember the last time he got a full night’s sleep. He’s starting to see double from exhaustion, and the thought of being knocked-out is starting to sound real fucking appealing...

He quickly makes up his mind and screws the lid off, shaking out three pills into his palm and sticks them in his jeans pocket. Then he puts the pill bottle back down in the cabinet just like he found it, and packs his toothbrush and deodorant in his backpack before quietly leaving out the door, locking it behind him and starts walking. He pulls up his phone to text Jonas that he’s heading over to his house, and then he pockets his phone again, but only makes it about ten steps before he pulls up his phone again, opening a browser and typing in “ _zyprexa”,_ clicking on the first search result, eyes scanning over the text as he continues walking.

_Antipsychotic drug. Uses: Schizophrenia - symptom reduction. Bipolar disorder; treatment of moderate to severe manic episodes or prevention of manic- and/or depressive episodes._

He wonders for a second if his mom is schizophrenic or if she has bipolar disorder. He doesn’t know anything about either illness. But then again, what does it even matter, what she has. At least she’s getting _antipsychotic_ medication now.

> _She went full-on psycho_.

His own words echo in his mind and he swallows around the lump in his throat and pockets his phone, continuing to walk towards Jonas’ house.

∙

∙

∙

∙

It’s another two hazy days of school and Valium-induced 8-hour knock-out sleep sessions, before he finally gathers the courage to send Elias and Mikael a message about Even.

He’s at the school library with his physics textbook, passing time until Jonas’ classes end, when he picks his phone up from his pocket, flipping it in his hand a few times before he opens Messenger and creates a new chat group with Elias and Mikael.

* * *

 **Elias, Mikael  
** 14:11

Hey have you guys heard from Even?

* * *

He bites his thumbnail before composing another message.

* * *

 **Elias, Mikael  
** 14:11

I texted him something about tutoring, but he’s not replying, and it seems like his Facebook profile is gone?

* * *

He knows there’s a chance he knows more about what’s going on with Even, than Elias and Mikael do, but he just wants to know if he’s okay. If he’s at school or if they’ve heard anything from him.

It’s barely a minute before his phone vibrates in his hand with a new message, and his heart rate picks up a bit.

* * *

 **Elias, Mikael  
** 14:12

Elias: Hey Isak

Yeah, his FB is deleted and so is his Insta… Did you see all that weird stuff he posted on his FB and Insta?

Bible quotes, like wtf?

Yeah I saw

Elias: I honestly dunno what’s going on with him, man.

He was acting strange for a couple of days and then boom all that stuff on his FB and Insta, like he was trying to prove a point or something… Hella weird.

And then he just deleted his profiles without a word. None of us have heard from him.

He's not at school?

No, he hasn’t been to school for a week and isn’t replying to texts or calls

Okay

So I was actually about to text you if you’d heard anything, but I guess not?

* * *

He knows he _could_ tell Elias about Even showing up at his house about a week ago and the breaking into botanical garden and the kiss and Even overhearing his mom screaming homophobic shit at him. It somewhat makes sense now. All the bible quotes. 

But he can’t tell Elias or Mikael about that. Especially not the kiss.

* * *

 **Elias, Mikael  
** 14:13

No I haven’t heard anything

Elias: Okay

Mikael: I’m gonna try Sonja again. She has to talk to us at some point. Otherwise I’ll just go straight to his parents.

Elias: Agreed. @Isak We’ll let you know, when we know something

Thx

* * *

Sonja. Right.

With everything; the _thing_ in Elias’ bathroom and the _kiss_ , and all Even’s texts about running away together, he’d almost forgotten that she existed. Sonja. Even’s girlfriend. For four years or something.

Hearing from Elias and Mikael that Even was acting weird, and that he hasn’t been to school only confirms his suspicions about something being _wrong_ with Even. And his heart breaks all over again because _shit no_ , Even obviously didn’t mean any of it. 

A tear threatens to spill over from his right eye, so he quickly wipes at it with the sleeve of his hoodie, taking a look around the library hoping no one sees him.

No one sees him.

Well. He just hopes Sonja will take care of him, and not just leave him.

Like his dad left his mom. Like _he_ left his mom.

∙

∙

∙

The next week passes by in a blur with no news from Elias or Mikael. The first few days, he’s pulling his phone up every thirty minutes, expecting to hear from them, to finally hear _something_ about Even, but as the days pass with no new messages in the group chat, he resigns. Maybe it’s not for him to hear anyway. Were they ever even friends, him and Even?

And it should be good anyway, like it’s what he wanted, after all. He asked Even to stop texting him, because he didn’t want to deal with everything, and now he doesn’t have to deal with him _at all_. No texts, no calls, no weird Insta or Facebook posts to make his heart sink. He realizes that he doesn’t even know where Even lives, and despite being a relatively small city, Oslo suddenly feels huge. It’s like Even never even existed in his life.

Except he has about 100 texts, and the pictures he took of Even’s doodles on his cast, to prove his existence.

Late at night, when Jonas is asleep, he obsessively scrolls through the texts and the photos. He can’t stop thinking about him. He just _can’t_. But it’s too much to think about him all the time, and about weird thought experiments about what could’ve been, if Even hadn’t been crazy, and he’d actually had feelings for him, and he didn’t have Sonja, and if Isak had actually been brave enough to come out, like in an alternative universe with a slightly different version of himself and Even, could they have been together?

It’s way _too much_ to think about, so he tries not to. Tries to not think about _anything_ and just focus on scraping by.

He continues to crash at Jonas’; long out of Valium, he’s back to shitty, sleepless nights, and long, hazy school days. He feels numb. And _so tired_.

∙

Some days later, when he’s once again tiredly leaning against Jonas’ house waiting for him to come home after his classes end, he gets a message from Jonas, and the rage he feels from seeing [Jonas’ bloody face on his screen](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/632703709100539904) is the most he has felt in a week. He’s wide awake in a heartbeat, fingers flying over his screen, as he texts Jonas back.

* * *

 **Jonas  
** 15:41

Wtf happened? Who did this? Are you okay?

Fucking Yakuza jumped me right outside of school

What???? Like right now?

Yeah

Do you need to go to the emergency room? I’m at yr place now but I can meet you there?

Nah. I’m heading home too. See you there

Ok

* * *

“Fuck those Yakuza assholes. We’ll get them.” Isak seethes, his hand shaking with rage, as he holds an ice pack to Jonas’ nose. He feels so jacked up, almost like he’s the one who got jumped.

“Nah, fuck it man… Let’s just quit this circle of violence.” Jonas says resignedly, wincing as blood continues to trickle out his nostril.

“Quit??” Isak says, eyes wide with rage. “…Hell fucking no. We’re not quitting _shit_. They’re gonna pay.”

“What’s up with you man?” Jonas asks, eyebrows drawing together as he lets Isak move the ice pack to his split lip.

“What’s up with- they _jumped_ you, Jonas!” Isak spits out. “…Out of the blue, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucked up!” He argues, dabbing Jonas’ lip with a wet wad of cotton wool.

“Yeah, I mean, they _are_ fucked up…”Jonas shrugs.

“They’ll pay.” Isak says back surely, and that’s that.

The next day he seeks out Chris Schistad from _The Penetrators_ , or _The Riot Club_ or whatever they call themselves now, and as he slides into Chris’ sleek black Mercedes, he pitches his idea to set up a fight with the Yakuza. Set those assholes straight once and for all. Luckily, Chris Schistad has kind of a soft spot for him since the whole rapping-the-Penetrators-anthem thing. Also, Schistad loves a good fight. After all, he’s the one who came up with the name _The Riot Club_.

∙

The next day he gets a text from Chris, and he feels a surge of adrenaline, as he opens it, eyes quickly scanning over the words.

* * *

 **Penetrator-Chris  
** 12:03

You got your wish isakyaki

The fight is on. Tomorrow night. Location tba.

We’ll bring some guys from Handels too. Let those Yakuza assholes know not to fuck with us.

Sweet. See you there.

🤘

* * *

∙

∙

∙

The situation is jacked from the first moment, with guys from both sides yelling at each other.

[Isak takes a couple of seconds to just look around, taking in the faces of the other guys. He can feel his heart beating, his body gearing up for fight.](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/632526087060176896)

Then Jonas starts arguing with the assholes who jumped him, and the fight is on.

Some of the guys start yelling louder, and Jonas starts arguing with one of the assholes who jumped him, and the situation escalates in seconds.

Isak doesn’t know who makes the first punch. But the pain feels good.

He backs Jonas and yells and pushes in the circle of 12-15 guys, the sound of his knuckles cracking as he hits some guy on the jaw. For a split-second, he worries about his arm, about having to wear a cast again. Then the image of his cast filled with Even’s doodles flashes before his eyes, and he goes harder; pushing the guy at the chest, screaming a “come at me!!” at him.

He barely sees it happening; William smashing a bottle in the face of one of the Yakuza assholes, but suddenly there’s blood everywhere, and then the sound of sirens, and Isak makes a run for it with Jonas and most of the other guys, none of them willing to deal with the cops right now.

He makes it to the tram with Jonas, both of them high on adrenaline, as they plop down in the tram seats.

“What the fuuuuck???” Jonas says, and Isak nods back, his whole body rocking. “That was some crazy shit...”

“Yeah, fuck.” Jonas says, looking Isak over. “Are you okay, Is?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Isak says quickly. “Just a few cuts across my knuckles.”

Jonas nods, eyeing the bruises and grazes on Isak’s hands and knuckles, then looks back up. “Holy shit, why the fuck did he smash a bottle on that guy’s face?”

“Dunno.” Isak says, heart still pounding. “Maybe because he’s an asshole…?”

“Who? William or the other guy?”

“The Yakuza guy…” Isak says, and Jonas frowns, eyebrows drawing together. “Yeah, but still… kind of a psycho thing to do…”

The word _psycho_ resonates in Isak’s mind for a few seconds. He turns his face and stares out the window at nothing, pulling a shrug.

“ _Psycho_..." He says absentmindedly, like tasting the word on his tongue. "...Yeah, maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR: Obviously Isak isn’t doing very well with coping with the realization that Even might be suffering from a mental illness.  
> He doesn’t fully understand what’s going on with him, all he knows is something’s _wrong_ , and it scares the hell out of him; the only frame of reference for mental illness being his mom, and that relationship is complex and problematic for many reasons.  
> Since realizing that Even probably suffers from a mental illness, he ascribes all Even's actions to that, convincing himself that the thing between him and Even can’t possibly mean anything. 
> 
> Sorry for this. I promise it will get better!


	10. Eazy_Eskild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Eskild.  
> Also featuring: Mikael, paranoia, news and research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes [Instagram DMs between Isak and Eskild, which were published in Julie Andem’s raw script for season 2.](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/633530821240897536) I’ve edited them a bit to make them fit better within this chapter.

After the Yakuza fight, Jonas starts staying over at Isabel’s.

And even though Jonas gives him his house key and assures him _that_ _it’s fine_ that he crashes in his room, in his bed even, while he’s at Isabel’s, Isak feels a bit like he has outstayed his welcome. It’s not like Jonas has told him to fuck off, he’d probably never say that to him, but Isak senses it.

And he gets it, really he does; he has been staying over at Jonas’ house for more than two weeks, and the only thing he has contributed with is his tutoring-earned stash of weed, which lasted them a total of three days.

He’s probably not easy to be around. He’s testy and tired and snappy all the time; the feeling that Jonas definitely knows that something is up, something more than the stuff with his mom, is really starting to wear him thin. When he feels particularly paranoid, most often late at night, he wonders if Jonas has heard anything about Even from Mikael, and if he has somehow put two and two together. If he _knows_ about him. That he likes Even. That he likes guys. He wonders if it makes Jonas think less of him. If he’s hesitant to sleep next to him every night because of it. If that’s the reason, he’s staying over at Isabel’s more and more.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s sick of his sorry ass crashing in his room. He’s no fun these days, and he’s a terrible drunk too; can’t even hold his liquor and ends up way too wasted and throwing up and/or blacking out at most parties; with Jonas sometimes having to drag him home and put him to bed on the air mattress, making sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit. Pathetic.

So, one late Friday afternoon, while Jonas is in the bathroom getting ready to go to Isabel’s, Isak decides to pack up all his shit, and when Jonas returns from the bathroom, nodding a “you leaving?” at his backpack looking close to bursting, he just shrugs a “yeah. Can’t stay here forever.” and hoists the heavy backpack onto his shoulder.

“You don’t have to leave, Issy.” Jonas says, and it makes him waver for just a second. But he knows for sure that Jonas would never kick him out, that he has to fuck off himself, before Jonas grows sick of him and their friendship turns sour. It’s too important to him to fuck up. Jonas is all he has.

“No, I know…” he nods back. “…Thanks for letting me stay here, bro.” he tries for his best smile, and claps Jonas’ hand.

“Yeah, sure…no problem…” Jonas says, as he claps his hand back, pulling a little frown along with his smile. “…Are you sure-“

“Yes.” Isak nods before he chickens out. “…Say hi to Isa from me. And uh, see you Monday at school.” He forces himself to smile and then he leaves Jonas’ room and his house, muscle memory carrying him the 800 meters to his own house.

∙

The house is dead silent when he unlocks the door and sets his heavy backpack down in the corridor. He calls out a “hello? Mamma?”, bracing himself for meeting his mom again after everything that went down a couple of weeks ago. No answer comes though, so he does a quick tour of the house but doesn’t find her anywhere. When he goes to the bathroom to take a piss, he notices that her pill bottles are gone. So much for snagging more valiums.

For a second, he wonders where she could’ve gone with her pills. Aunt Kari’s maybe?

He lazily pads to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water, downing it in three gulps, then sets the empty glass on the counter and retreats to his room. He plops down on his bed and unpacks half of his backpack before giving up and powering up his PlayStation for a game of FIFA instead.

∙

At 10 pm the house is still quiet. Almost eerily so, so he pulls up his phone to text his dad.

* * *

**Dad**

22:03

Do you know where mom is? House is empty.

Hello Isak.

I thought you were staying at Jonas’?

Your mom is going to be staying at a care facility for a while.

* * *

He frowns at the screen.

* * *

**Dad**

A care facility? Do you mean a psych ward?

Yes, I guess you can call it that.

You had her admitted to a psych ward? And you didn’t tell me??

Her doctor believed it was for the best.

Your mother is very stressed and needs special care.

* * *

_Tell me about it_. He thinks bitterly. And yeah okay, he knew, things were bad with his mom, and that his father promised to _get her the help she needed,_ but still, the thought of her in a psychiatric hospital makes it all the more real. So, she’s straight up _crazy_. Clinically.

He can’t stop his thoughts from spiraling. Is it because of him? Like, is it his fault? Because he’s gay? Was it seeing him kissing another boy, that pushed her over the edge? Stressed her out so much, that she had to be admitted to a psych ward?

_Kissing another boy._

His thoughts jump to Even and the stuff that happened between them, and tonight he doesn’t succeed in turning them off, even if he’s spent the past weeks trying to forget about everything. His throat closes up, like it does every time he’s too tired or _weak_ to stop himself from thinking about it. About _him_. He has tried, really tried to _not think about him_ , because it’s too painful; making both his head and his chest hurt. But sometimes, those thoughts still manage to break through the flimsy barrier, he has created in his mind and overwhelm him, making his throat close up and his heart beat uncomfortably hard.

Is Even at a mental institution, too? And if so, is that _his_ fault, too? Maybe he shouldn’t have answered his texts in the middle of the night, and he probably shouldn’t have gotten on the back of his bike and jumped the fence of the Botanical Garden. Definitely shouldn’t have done _the thing_ in Elias’ bathroom, or kissed Even back, when he kissed him outside his house.

His treacherous body still reacts instantly to thinking about _the thing_ in Elias’ bathroom and about kissing Even, and he flushes with shame at how his heart rate picks up and how quickly he gets hard. He curls his fingers around himself and strokes himself to completion in a ridiculously short amount of time, fuzzy mind promising himself that this will be the last time he gets off to the thought of Even and what they did together.

Afterwards, he wipes his sticky hand on the sheet, feeling guilty and shameful over the fact that he can’t even jerk off without thinking about Even. He squeezes his eyes shut until he sees white spots, and then he turns on the tv, mindlessly settling on some Netflix documentary.

He gets restless some twenty minutes later though, so he picks his phone up again.

* * *

**Dad**

22:31

Are you going to be okay alone in the house?

As I said I’ll vipps you money for food and clothes and whatever you need.

Yes. Thx.

I don’t know when your mom will be back. It may be a while.

Ok.

Call me if you need anything Isak

* * *

He puts his phone back down beside him in bed and takes a second to think about which is worse; hanging out in the eerily quiet house all by himself or co-habitating with his mom.

Maybe he can stay at Magnus’ or go back to Jonas’ house for a few days, if it gets too bad.

∙

The next day, he’s already sick of hanging out alone in the house, so when Magnus texts him about some party in Blindern, he doesn’t hesitate to text him back a “sure. What time?“ because yeah, getting shitfaced at some random houseparty sounds pretty good right about now.

∙

Around 4 pm, he heads for the tram to Magnus’ house for the pre-game, a half-filled bottle of vodka from his parents’ not-so-secret stash in a plastic bag swinging from his hand. That’s one of the upsides of staying in the house alone; no one is there to catch him sneaking out booze.

As soon as he plops down in the tram seat, he’s pulling his phone up to pass time, drawing his eyebrows together when he sees a notification from an unknown Instagram account.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

15:20

Hey, thank you for last night

* * *

Huh?

* * *

Eazy_ Eskild

Active now

16:03

I think you’ve messaged the wrong person.. I don’t know you

No? About fucking time then! Wanna grab a beer?

?

?

Who are you?

Oh soryyyyyy I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Mr. Eazy Hakuna, son and sole heir to the great Nigerian banker Mr. Eskild Matata. Unfortunately, my dad died and now I’m just sitting here with millions of $$$, but no one to drink with. So, if you’ll have a beer with me, I’ll pay you 300.000.000 $ - THREE - HUNDRED - MILLION – DOLLARS for your assistance! Please if okay this arrangement god bless

* * *

He quirks a smile at the message. Whoever this dude is, he’s funny. He’ll give him that.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Lol

But seriously who are you?

My name is Eskild, wanna grab a beer?

?

Why?

I think you’re hot

What?

Omg so eloquent too

* * *

The message makes his blood run cold. _I think you’re hot._

What the fuck? Is this a joke?? How-, who-, does he know-

His heart starts pounding in his chest, and he navigates to the Eskild-guy’s profile, scrolling down his follows- and following lists, looking for Even’s name. He doesn’t see it, but then he remembers that it wouldn’t show up anyway because he deleted his profile.

He stops scrolling when he sees Eva’s name though.

Drawing his eyebrows together, he tries to remember Eva talking about an Eskild, but he can’t recall her ever mentioning someone with that name. But then again, it’s been a while since he’s spent time with her; things have been weird between them for some time. He’s reminded of the awkwardness of when she tried to kiss him at that Penetrators party a couple of weeks ago and he turned her down, and she drunkenly asked him if he was gay and… _fuck_.

A wave of nausea makes him swallow down the spit in his mouth, and he feels _sick_ ; paranoia hitting him hard as he slides his phone back into his pocket. For a second, he debates pulling up the bottle of vodka from the bag and taking a couple of gulps to calm the fuck down, but the tram is filled with _normal_ , happy people on the way home from Saturday afternoon shopping, or whatever the fuck you do with your family on Saturdays, and he really doesn’t want to deal with their disapproving stares. He gets enough judgment as it is.

Instead he pulls up his earphones, blasting NWA as loud as his phone allows him.

∙

When he arrives at Magnus’ place, he can hear the sound of a heavy bass and loud voices through the door, which means the pre-party is already alive and kicking. _Perfect._

∙

He goes hard at the pre-party; Magnus’ football friends from Nordstrand are fun enough, and most importantly: They’re not cheap with the tequila, so Isak saves his half-bottle of vodka for later, when they move on to the party in Blindern. Magnus’ friends do seem to have an affinity for russe-songs though, and Isak endures it in the name of not killing the vibe. At least this time, Magnus has the grace to _not_ blast out the fucking Penetrators-anthem and embarrass him in front of everybody. Though something tells him that these guys would actually dig the song. Like, non-ironically.

It makes him think back to that night at Elias’ and the memory of Even’s surprised-slash-scandalized face, as Magnus cranked up the Penetrators anthem and his voice came blasting out the speaker, rapping dirty lyrics about hooking up and cum shots, flashes before his eyes for a couple of seconds. He can still hear Even’s deep voice in his mind.

> I’m saving this to my YouTube playlist. Not for the lyrics though. Just your rapping.

For a second he wonders if Even actually did save it. Then he downs another shot of tequila.

∙

A couple of hours later, they’ve moved on to some third-year party in Blindern, and he’s riding that sweet spot where he’s drunk but not sick yet. He leaves a game of flip-cup to take a piss in the garden of whoever is hosting the party, idly scrolling down Instagram with his left hand, when he sees a post from Eva, and he suddenly remembers those DMs from earlier.

He zips himself back up and opens his DMs.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

01:53

How do you know Eva?

Isakyaki you’re back! Hello!

Eva who?

Eva Mohn. You follow her here on insta

Oh right… don’t remember actually…

Wait, she’s a friend of a friend, don’t know her that well

Do you know her?

* * *

He flips his phone in his hand a few times, then takes a look at the house, where the party is still going strong; some old Kanye song about Jesus blasting out through the windows.

 _Fuck it. Fuck everything_.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Do you know of any after-parties? Like now

There you were! We can have an after-party at my place

Are you hosting a party?

I am if you’re coming

Are you coming?

* * *

His heart starts beating faster, and he takes a quick look around the garden. He feels weird; high-strung and paranoid like the time he and Jonas got caught trying to steal a sixpack of beer from the local supermarket.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Why are you dm’ing me?

Why do you answer?

* * *

His heart starts pounding even harder as he tries to think of an answer to that question. Why _does_ he answer this random guy’s DMs? He sways slightly on his feet as he types out the next message, definitely feeling drunker than a few minutes ago.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Are you gay?

Yes

* * *

He stares at the “yes” for a couple of seconds, before typing out a quick “ok” and pocketing his phone again with clammy hands. He feels kinda lightheaded when he wipes his palms on his thighs and rejoins the party inside; quickly finding Magnus and a bottle of vodka.

∙

He’s so fucking hung-over the next day, and he honestly has no idea how he made it home from Blindern. Can’t remember anything really. But he’s home in his own room, wearing his own clothes and with no broken bones, so he counts that as a victory.

When he picks up his phone and unlocks it, he has a slight recollection of texting someone last night.

His heart immediately starts racing, and he almost drops his phone in his haste to access his text conversations. But when he opens them, the top conversation is with his dad a few days ago, and he has to scroll way down to see Even’s name.

No new messages in three weeks; the last text in the thread being his own “stop texting me”.

So, not Even then.

He presses the home button and doesn’t know if the feeling settling in his chest is relief or disappointment.

But, who the fuck _did_ he text with last night, then?

He navigates to his Insta DMs instead and opens the top conversation.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

02:49

So are you gonna join the after-party at my place?

03:02

No didn’t think so. Goodnight hot isakyaki

05:55

Maybe we can grab a beer someday

If it’s so fucking important to you

* * *

_What the fuck_.

He flushes as he reads the messages from last night, and especially the ones he sent this morning. He definitely does _not_ remember sending those.

His throat tightens as he reads the words again and he swallows drily, wishing a glass of water would magically appear. His throat feels like sandpaper and his head is pounding. But he’s alone in the house with no one to call, so he drops his phone on the sheet and drags himself up with a groan and pads to the bathroom for a long piss and then he sticks his face under the cold faucet, greedily gulping down water, trying to forget about those DMs.

But when he returns to his bed, his phone lights up with a new notification.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

11:05

Goodmorning! Just woke up with a boner the size of Plaza.

So, when do you wanna meet up for beer? How about now?

* * *

He drops his phone so fast, it’s like he touched a hotplate.

 _What the fuuuuuck?_ He definitely shouldn’t have sent those drunk DMs this morning. Now this Eskild-guy thinks he’s coming on to him, and shit, maybe he kinda _was_ last night.

 _Shit, shit shit_. What the _fuck_ was he thinking.

He abandons his phone completely, pointedly ignoring the messages from Eskild hoping he’ll take a hint, and turns on his tv instead, zoning out to Breaking Bad for a couple of episodes before falling asleep.

∙

When he wakes up again, he’s sweaty and groggy, still feeling somewhat hungover. He picks his phone up from under his pillow. No new messages, so, it looks like that Eskild-guy did take the hint.

Instead there’s a vipps notification on his screen.

**You’ve received 3000 kroner from Terje Valtersen**

He shoots his dad a quick “received the money. Thanks.” and then he opens his text conversation with Jonas.

* * *

**Jonas**

15:12

Yo.  
Wanna go out for kebabs?  
My treat.

Sure man  
Join me at the bowl? Mikael is here too.

* * *

Seeing Mikael’s name on the screen makes his heart jump in his chest; his first thought being whether Mikael has any news about Even. It’s been over three weeks since Even deleted his Facebook and Instagram profile and stopped texting him and even though he’s desperately trying to forget him, he’s also desperate for news about him. Guess love or a crush or whatever this is, is funny like that.

He texts Jonas back a thumbs up, and crunches up from his bed, dragging his hung-over body to the bathroom for a quick shower.

∙

There’s a light drizzle of rain when he walks into the almost-empty skatepark about an hour later, immediately spotting Jonas and Mikael in the bowl. Their laughs ricochet off the walls when he gets up close.

“Yo.” He calls out.

“Hey Issy!” Jonas smiles, and Mikael shoots back a “yo, man.”

Then they both ride up the wall, kicking off at the top to make their way over to him. They look so synchronized, and he can’t help but wonder how close they are, and what they talk about when they’re hanging out alone. And then comes that weird feeling of paranoia again; like, what if Even told Mikael about what happened between them, and he in turn told Jonas? But then again, why would Even tell Mikael, when none of that mattered to him anyway. But, what if-

His thoughts start spiraling, and he kinda zones out for a couple of seconds before Jonas and Mikael are both standing right in front of him, clapping his hand in greeting. 

“Yo, Is. You okay?” Jonas says, as he claps his hand. He’s smiling, but his eyebrows are drawn together making him look worried, and Isak finally snaps out of it.

“Hm? Yeah, no I’m just a little hungover.”

“Right, that party in Blindern with Mags’ football crew last night?” Jonas smiles, and he nods back. “Yup. You shoulda been there, man.”

“Yeah, I know… But I had plans with Isa, so… We’re watching Fargo…” Jonas smiles in explanation.

“That’s a great show, man.” Mikael supplies, and Isak just nods, zoning out again, as Mikael and Jonas start discussing the plotline of season 1 versus season 2 for a couple of minutes, before Jonas jerks his head at the bowl asking Mikael “yo, wanna go for a last ride, before I jet outta here with Issy?”

“Nah bro, I’m gonna chill for a bit.” Mikael says, and Jonas nods back an “okay.” Then he turns to Isak. “…I’ll just go for one last ride, okay? Wanna try something out…”

“Sure.” Isak says back and then Jonas rides down the wall of the bowl, picking up speed, and Isak is left with Mikael, who unceremoniously plops down on the ground, letting his legs hang out over the ledge. It feels like a silent invitation, so Isak plops down beside him, and they both look out at Jonas for a moment as he carves along the furthest side of the bowl.

“So, um…” Mikael starts. “…I heard from Even. Or well…from Sonja, actually.”

Isak turns his face slightly to look at him, his heart starting to beat faster at the sound of Even’s name.

“Yeah?” he says, trying to keep his voice level.

“Yeah.” Mikael says with a slight nod. “…He’s um… he’s going to be staying up north for a while. Tromsø. He has family there.”

“Oh. Okay” Isak nods, averting his eyes, looking out at Jonas riding again. He can’t look at Mikael right now, too afraid he’ll give everything away.

“Yeah, so…” Mikael trails off.

“But uh, what about…” Isak says weakly, not sure where to start. “…What about school? Aren’t you guys graduating in a couple of weeks? I mean, what about exams…?”

“Yeah, we are. But um, Sonja said he might have to redo his third year. He isn’t… he isn’t doing so well.” Mikael draws a hand through his dark hair, and he looks so worried, and Isak’s heart breaks.

“What’s- what’s wrong with him?” he asks quietly. Hesitantly. He wants to know, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t know.” Mikael says. “…Sonja wouldn’t say. Said she’d promised him not to tell anyone. And he won’t return my calls or texts.”

“Oh. Okay.” He says back, the words catching in his throat.

Mikael is quiet for a moment, drawing his hoodie up over his hair. “Do you know he has ADHD? Did he tell you?” he then asks softly.

Isak looks at him for a second, wondering why he’d think Even would’ve told him that. And then there’s a part of him desperate to ask him _what_ he knows, to finally get rid of the paranoia. Like, what has Even told him? Does he know that they hung out in botanical garden? Does he know about the kiss?

He doesn’t ask Mikael anything though, just looks down at his own hands in his lap. “Uh, no. He didn’t, uh. Tell me that.”

Mikael nods and then continues. “Okay. But yeah, he’s had it since we were kids… And there have been times where he’s been acting a little weird, like… I dunno…Kinda high-strung, kinda hyper, I guess? But I’ve never… it’s never been like this before, I mean…I don’t know…” He trails off, and Isak recognizes that he’s just as heartbroken as himself. He can’t imagine what it must be like to have your best friend up and leave to Tromsø without a word.

They sit in silence for a couple of moments, both looking out at the bowl.

“Maybe it isn’t ADHD.” Isak finally says quietly.

“No, maybe not.” Mikael says back, eyes still on the bowl.

Another few silent moments pass between them, and then Mikael turns his head and looks directly at him. “Anyway…Just thought you should know.” His brown eyes are boring into Isak’s green ones, and Isak grows more flustered by the millisecond.

_He knows._

Isak swallows around the tightness in his throat, heart going wild in his throat.

“Did he-, did he um-“

Mikael looks at him patiently, but he still can’t get the words out, and then Jonas rides up the wall, kicking off the ledge, sending him a carefree smile, and the opportunity is lost.

“Yo Iss, let’s go for that kebab, I’m fucking starving.”

Isak clears his throat before replying a “yeah. Okay.”, hoping Jonas doesn’t notice how weak his voice still is.

He stands back up, and so does Mikael; clapping Jonas’ hand with a “see you in a couple of weeks, man.”

“Yeah, good luck on the exams.” Jonas smiles back at Mikael. “…text me, when you’re done and have time to chill again.”

“Will do, man.” Mikael nods, and then Jonas walks off to grab his backpack from a bench some ten meters away.

“…Yeah, uh, good luck on the exams.” Isak says, as he claps Mikael’s hand in goodbye. “…let me know if you need help with physics.”

“Thanks, man, I’ll keep that in mind.” Mikael says, lips pulling into a little smile.

“And uh…” Isak sends a quick glance over at Jonas making his way back towards them, judging that he’s still out of earshot. “…Thanks for telling me. About Even.”

Mikael just nods, and a couple of seconds later Jonas is there and Isak nods a “bye.” at Mikael and turns around following Jonas towards one of the exits.

∙

“…You okay Is?” Jonas asks, when they hit the pavement just outside the entrance to the skatepark.  
“Hm? Yeah…” He shrugs. “Just still a bit hung over, I guess…”

“Okay…it’s just that, it’s not everyday you invite your best friend out for kebab...” Jonas smiles, and Isak knows that this is Jonas’ subtle way of trying to get him _to_ _talk_.

“Hah, no, guess not...” he deflects, because he really doesn’t want to talk. “…But uh, my dad just vippsed me 3000 kroner, so…”  
  
“Oi. Nice.”

“Yeah.” He nods back, and they continue in silence for a few moments.

“What did you and Mikael talk about?” Jonas then says, casting him a side-glance.

“Uh. Nothing.”

“Nothing…?” Jonas says disbelievingly.

“Just uh. Tutoring stuff.”

“Okay, man.” Jonas says with a little shake of his head, and for some reason it makes Isak snap at him.

“ _What_?”

“Just…” Jonas sounds frustrated, angry almost. But then his voice moves onto resignation. “…Nah, nothing man.”

It makes a heavy pit settle in Isak’s stomach, and the silence is loaded as they continue to the kebab joint.

When they finally make it there, Isak’s interest in food has dropped to about 0 percent. But an invite is an invite, so he buys Jonas a kebab and one for himself too, because it would be weird not to, and they eat in silence on a bench.

∙

Later, when he’s back in the quiet of his empty house, in his own room, he pulls up his laptop and begins an extensive google research on ADHD; what are the symptoms, treatment, differential diagnoses.

Both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia are mentioned as possible differential diagnoses, and he has to double back when he reads it, instantly remembering the label on his mom’s pill bottle. _Zyprexa. Used to treat bipolar disorder and schizophrenia_. So, he extends his research to include bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, and one article leads to another, and before he knows it, he’s five pages into a scientific paper on neurotransmitters and biochemistry, by far surpassing his knowledge of chemistry. He reads on trying to make sense of it all; his mom’s illness, Even’s strange behavior. Unsurprisingly, nothing makes sense at all.

It’s the beep from his phone that finally makes him look up from his laptop. He clicks on the Insta notification; it’s a new DM from that Eskild guy about…who even knows.

He doesn’t understand jack shit, so he sends him back a “huh?” and Eskild immediately replies. Something about Paradise Hotel? Isak can honestly say he hasn’t watched a minute of that show in his life and doesn’t give a single fuck.

So, he ignores the incoming DMs, locks his phone and turns back to his laptop, resuming his research on dopamine receptors, serotonin levels and ADHD, bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.


	11. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Jonas, a gay bar, a haircut and a birthday. + running away from everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes DMs between Isak and Eskild and the scene where Isak meets Eskild at a gay bar (Blue World), as published in the raw script for season 2 written by Julie Andem. I’ve added to- and edited the scene to make it fit better within this chapter, but I take no credit for the original scene. 

It’s a few days after Isak receives the first DMs from Eskild, that he by coincidence stumbles upon an Insta post from Noora that makes him realize the connection there.

∙

It’s another random school night, and he’s sitting in bed, the quiet of the still-empty house contrasting with the sound of birds chirping like mad right outside his window. Leaning back against a couple of fluffed up pillows behinds his back, he balances his laptop on his thighs. It’s open on some articles he is supposed to read for tomorrow’s test in social studies class, but he has long given up on it and opted to mindlessly scroll his phone instead. Thumbing down his Insta feed, he sees a new post from Noora, that makes him stop scrolling, though. It’s a picture of a guy sitting in a chair, looking massively hungover wearing only boxers and socks. There’s something about him that looks vaguely familiar, so Isak clicks on the tag in the post. _Eazy_Eskild_. He clicks on the profile name and arrives at the guy’s profile, and yeah, it’s definitely the same guy who’s been sending him DMs. The guy who called him hot and invited him home for an after-party a couple of days ago. The guy who knows Eva through a friend.

With his heart rate quickly picking up, he navigates to Noora’s profile, and there are a few more pics there of the Eskild-dude, including a couple of videos from a supermarket, where it looks like they’re shopping groceries together. He rewatches the videos a couple of times, trying to make sense of it, and then it seeps in; he remembers something about Noora living in a kollektiv, remembers Jonas jokingly telling him some story about Noora mentioning walking in on her gay roommate getting a blowjob from some random dude.

 _Shit_.

His heart starts beating even faster, as he navigates to his DMs and rereads the ones he exchanged with this Eskild-guy. His first instinct is to delete all of them, to cover his tracks and erase all traces of them ever communicating, but then it strikes him that deleting his DMs won’t make them disappear from Eskild’s phone.

 _Shit_.

His palms go clammy as he thinks about Noora finding out, that he’s been texting with this Eskild-guy. Like, if Noora and Eskild are really roommates then maybe Eskild has told her about the guy who drunk-texted him last weekend and who invited him out for beer and-

 _Shit shit shit_.

If Noora knows, then Eva knows. And then Jonas will know.

Everyone will know.

He can’t—

His throat closes up at the thought. Of everyone knowing about him.

And even though it’s been about a month since he last saw her, his mom’s words echo clearly in his mind.

_What have you done with him? What have you done with my beautiful son? You’re a devil, you’re impure, you’re-_

When he finally snaps out of it, his phone has timed out and the screen locked, so he quickly swipes his thumb over it to unlock. 

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Video sent.

Do you live in a kollektiv with Noora from Nissen?

Isakyaki! Hello again

Haha, I had completely forgotten about that video… We were in the supermarket and I snagged her phone out of her bag and uploaded to her Insta profile without her noticing. Lol!

But hey are we gonna grab that beer soon or are you gonna be a cock tease for all eternity?

* * *

Fuck. No. This has got to stop.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Seriously, you need to fucking stop DMing me all the time

I don’t wanna have a beer with you and I’m not gay if that’s what you think

Ok

No stress

* * *

For a second he almost regrets his harsh words. But seriously, this Eskild-dude really needs to stop sending him DMs. He can’t afford being outed by some horny gay guy, who happens to be Noora’s roommate. Well at least, now he has literally texted him “I am not gay”, so if Noora sees the DMs, there it is; he – Isak - is _not_ gay.

∙

About an hour later, his phone remains blissfully quiet and he’s still in bed, making just about zero progress with the articles, he’s supposed to read for school. So, he picks his phone back up and flips it in his hand a few times, debating whether or not to text Jonas. Things have been a little awkward between them since the skatepark/kebab hang-out a couple of days ago, and as he flips his phone in his hand, he can’t help but worry if he actually did manage to fuck up their friendship this time.

The thought makes him swallow drily, his throat tight with worry. So, in an attempt to keep from thinking more about it, he shoots Magnus a text asking him if wants to game FIFA online. He really hopes Magnus agrees to it. Or to play something else. Anything really to take his mind off the devastating possibility that he has fucked up the only important relationship in his life.

Thankfully it’s only 30 seconds before Magnus enthusiastically agrees, and Isak subsequently spends a few hours zoning out to a FIFA tournament until Magnus quits the tournament around 11 pm with an in-game message: “night Issy, see you tmrw in school”.

Isak sends him back a “yes. night” and drags himself up from bed, stretching out the kinks in his upper body from gaming for four hours straight and then he closes his window, where the cool late April air streams in, the birds still chirping in the tree outside.

He strips down to his boxers and flops back down on his bed, drawing the covers up over his tired body, and has just about closed his eyes, when he gets a text from Jonas.

* * *

**Jonas**

23:16

Yo Issy

Sorry for the other day at the skatepark.

I know things are rough with your mom being admitted and all

And I shouldn’t have snapped at you

* * *

He reads Jonas’ messages twice, lips quirking into a soft smile of relief. They’re still good, him and Jonas.

* * *

**Jonas**

It’s cool bro

I’m sorry for being such a fuck-up

You’re not a fuck-up, Is.

Just y’know, lemme know if you want to talk about stuff. Anything.

Thx

Peacenluv

✌️

* * *

He puts the phone down with a little sigh. Maybe he _could_ talk to Jonas. Someday. Maybe.

_Someday._

∙

∙

∙

A couple of days later, his mom comes home from the hospital. It’s one of the first days of May; sunny and 20 degrees outside, and Isak looks out the window as his dad pulls the car up to the house and his mom carefully steps out and slowly makes her way to the house.

Seeing his parents again – even just from a distance and through his bedroom window - is weird; he hasn’t seen his dad in several months, and his mom in about a month – not since _that night_ , where she saw him kissing Even right outside the house and she subsequently slapped him hard, rambling on about him being a sinner and a devil and _not her son_.

And now she’s standing in the very same doorway where she hit him on the cheek, but she seems subdued, looking small and frail as she clings to his dad. So, Isak swallows down the monologue he has rehearsed, the _the-kiss-with-that-guy-didn’t-mean-anything-it-was-just-a-joke_ , and steps aside, letting his mom and dad enter and his dad set down a large weekend bag in the corridor.

“Hei mamma.” he says instead, but it comes out all awkward; apparently he doesn’t even know how to talk to his own mother anymore.

“Hei Isak.” She says back, and it’s sorta quiet and resigned and a little hoarse, and she looks so tired, as his father helps her take her coat off. 

“Do you want to lie down?” his father softly asks her, and she nods, letting him lead her to the bedroom they once shared, and Isak is frozen on the spot, looking at his parents’ retreating backs.

A few minutes later, his father returns from the bedroom, and joins him in the kitchen, turning the kettle on and taking out two mugs from a cabinet.

“Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.” Isak replies, following his dad’s movement with his eyes as he folds up the sleeves of his slightly crinkled light blue button-down and pours instant coffee into the two mugs.

When the coffee is done, they sit down around the little table in the kitchen, where they used to eat breakfast, and Isak warms his coldish hands on the hot mug. It’s kinda painful, scalding his palms a little, but he holds on to it anyway.

His dad stares straight ahead, eyebrows knitted together like he’s deep in thought, so Isak breaks the silence.

“So, what, uh-, what did the doctor say?”

His dad slowly takes a sip of coffee then turns to him, setting his cup down on the wooden tabletop.

“Your mom suffers from a serious mental illness.”

“Yes, that much I gathered.” Isak says back, and he almost winces at the way his words come out kinda snarky.

His dad ignores it though.

“It’s difficult to diagnose correctly, but it’s most likely schizophrenia. Possibly paranoid schizophrenia.”

“Oh.”

The words hit him hard even if he spent five hours the other day googling mental illnesses and arrived at the same conclusion. Also, the label on the Zyprexa pill bottle he found in the bathroom cabinet was pretty much a dead give-away. Still, _schizophrenia_ sounds fucking scary when you say it out loud.

“But what, uh… like _caused it_?” he asks, because he needs to know.

“Her illness?” his father says.

“Yeah. Or, like, her breakdown…”

“It’s difficult to say. The illness may be genetic and only now manifested.”

“Okay, but like…” Isak wrings his hands in his lap. “…What triggered it? What made her _freak out_? Like, what tipped the load?”

“I don’t know, Isak.” His dad breathes out. ”…Could be just a coincidence or could be external factors, like stress.”

There it is. _Stress_.

“Stress…” He says quietly, nodding his head as his voice threatens to fail him. Then he stands up on shaky legs, leaving his unfinished coffee on the tabletop and goes to his room, closing the door behind him. He leans his back against it for a second before his knees give out and he slides to the floor.

∙

An indefinite amount of time later; could be five minutes, could be an hour, he honestly doesn’t know, his dad knocks on his door and tells him that he’s leaving and _can you please take care of your mom_.

He feels his heart start beating uncomfortably hard at the thought of being alone with his mom, so he stands up, almost toppling over, since his legs are asleep from having been bent at the knees for an indefinite amount of time. Probably more than five minutes, after all.

Grabbing his keys and credit card from his desk and a random hoodie off a chair, he flings the door to his room open, pushing past his father with a low “I can’t do this.”

He hears his father call out his name as he leaves out the front door, leaving it open behind him and then speedwalks down the driveway, picking up speed until he’s running.

He doesn’t stop until he’s a couple of streets away. Then he doubles over and takes a couple of seconds to catch his breath before he pulls his phone up.

* * *

**Jonas**

**17:05**

Hey

What are you doing now?

Nothing, just chilling with Isabell. You alright?

* * *

Right. Isabell. He feels momentarily bad for crashing Jonas’ hang-out session with his girlfriend, but he seriously has nowhere else to go.

* * *

**Jonas**

My mom just got back from the hospital

Shit. How is she?

I don’t know. Tired and like subdued.

Maybe they pumped her full of drugs. Fuck do I know

I just don’t really feel like being at home right now

Shit, I’m sorry Issy.

You’re welcome to come to my place and hang out with me and Isa

Thx man.

Tho I was thinking more along the lines of going out and get wasted

Sure we can do that

Cool. Omw

* * *

A couple of hours later, he’s at some pre-game downtown with Jonas and Isabell and a bunch of her friends, but the party shuts down around midnight, and then they are hanging around at Youngstorvet, him and Jonas sitting on the side along the stone fountain, splitting a cigarette while Isabell is on the phone trying to figure out where to go next.

He’s starting to get a little cold and numb from sitting on the cold stone, and the buzz from the vodka and cigarettes is about to give way to a heavy feeling of exhaustion.

When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he pulls it up to see his sister’s name flashing on the screen. He also has 3 unanswered calls and 2 messages from his dad. The phone is still vibrating in his hand when he slides it back into his pocket.

“…Yoooo, maybe we should just go to Burger King or something…” Jonas slurs a bit drunkenly, and Isak looks up at him. “…I mean, we still have a ton of booze…”

“Shit yeah, remember back in 10th grade where we used to hang out at the Burger King at Majorstua…?” Isak says back, quirking a smile. “…So fucking funny.”

“Yeah, good times man.” Jonas nods with a smile before stumping the cigarette, and they both look over at Isabell, who’s still on the phone.

Isak watches her for a good ten seconds before he resigns.

“Nah fuck it, man, I’m tired… can’t we just go to your place and crash?”

Jonas widens his eyes so much it’s almost comical: “Shit, sorry Issy, I forgot to tell you… Isabell’s parents aren’t home tonight, and she asked me if I wanted to stay over, so…” he bites his lip, and Isak can tell that he’s genuinely sorry. Still, he can’t help but feel disappointed. Now he has nowhere to sleep.

“Oh.” He nods weakly, trying hard to hide his disappointment. “Okay.”

“But uh, I’m sure you can crash there too, if you want.” Jonas says, but Isak isn’t stupid. He knows not to crash _that_.

“No, it’s okay.”

“You sure?” Jonas asks.

“100 percent.” Isak nods. “…I’ll just call Mags or something. No worries.”

“Okay.” Jonas says, sounding relieved, and Isabell finally makes her way back over to them, sliding her phone into the pocket of her jacket. “Sorry, seems like all of Oslo has gone to Lillehammer for the russetreff. I mean, there’s a party at Vinderen, but it’s pretty far…” she shrugs.

“Nah fuck it.” Jonas says, grabbing her hand. “…let’s just call it a night.”

“Yeah? You sure?” she asks, eyes darting between Jonas and Isak, and Isak agrees with a nod and a “yeah, I’m gonna head home too.”

“Okay.” She says and then turns to Jonas with a flirty smile. “…If we hurry, we can catch line 12 to my place in four minutes.”

“Let’s go.” Jonas smiles back, drawing her in for a quick kiss, and then turns to clap Isak’s hand in goodbye. Isabell gives him a hasty hug and then they’re walking down the street, and Isak stares at their backs as their silhouettes become smaller and smaller.

When he sees them turn a corner and walk out of sight, he plops back down on the cold stone of the fountain and pulls up his phone, scrolling down his contacts, thumb hovering over Magnus’ number for a couple of seconds. He doesn’t call him though, just slips his phone back into his pocket and draws up the half-full bottle of vodka from the plastic bag sitting on the ground between his feet and takes a long sip.

It’s a Friday night and the city is buzzing; there’s that distinct start-of-summer vibe, which always makes the city come alive after a long winter; the promise of a long and bright summer floating in the air, even if it’s only early May and still kinda cold. The streets are filled with people, and Isak spends a few moments looking at all the happy people with places to go, places to sleep. A couple of guys cross the square, and he looks up at them; they’re both young and tall and good-looking, and when one of them casts a quick glance at him, he averts his eyes instantly, heart speeding up like he’s been caught doing something illegal. Still, he can’t help looking back at them, as they pass him by and continue down the street. They’re holding each other in a tight embrace; one guy’s arm around the other guy’s hip, and then he leans in and kisses the other guy’s neck, and Isak keeps his eyes on them as they walk further and further down the street. They’re some fifty meters down the street, when he makes a quick decision. He takes another sip of vodka before putting the bottle back in the plastic bag and then he stands up and follows them, keeping a safe distance, so they won’t notice him.

∙

Five minutes later, he’s across the street from a bar, watching the two guys slip inside. There’s a rainbow flag and rainbow stickers all over the façade, and Isak knows what kind of bar this is. After a couple of minutes, he walks up to the door anyway, the bouncer giving him a quick up-and-down before letting him enter.

∙

Inside the place is packed with guys dancing, drinking, talking, and it’s barely two minutes before Isak accidentally meets the eyes of some random guy from across the room. The guy smiles at him, and Isak drops his eyes to the ground, fumbling to pull up his phone to look busy.

When he finally gets his phone up, there are two notifications on his lock screen; another unanswered call from his dad and three unread messages. He opens the text convo, the words blurring a little bit, so he has to squint at the screen to read.

* * *

**Dad**

18:12

You can’t just walk out, I told you to watch her!

18:41

Come back to the house, Isak.

23:49

Isak where are you? And pick up your phone!

* * *

He types out a “I’m busy sucking dick at a gay bar” but deletes the words.

* * *

**Dad**

0:31

I’m 16! How about you fucking watch her, you’re her husband!!

* * *

He closes the text conversation, locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket, and when he looks up there’s a brown-haired guy standing in front of him. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and looks to be in his mid-twenties. He’s shorter than himself, but hot. Like, _objectively good-looking_. Or whatever.

The guy smiles at him, holding a drink in each of his hands. “You’re new.”

He lets his eyes travel down Isak’s body before looking back up and offering him one of the drinks.

Isak just stares at the glass, swallowing drily at the attention.

“Vodka redbull.” The guy clarifies, and Isak accepts the drink with a curt nod.

“…How old are you anyway?” the guy adds as an afterthought.

“20.” Isak lies dismissively before bringing the drink to his lips to take a sip.

The guy takes a look at him, then smiles.

“Cute.”

He introduces himself as Mats before asking for Isak’s name, and Isak answers “Jonas”, because he’s too afraid to use his actual name. Like, what if the guy tracked him down on social media and started sending him DMs and-

“Oh, like the Jonas Brothers!” the guy says, interrupting Isak’s thoughts, and then starts rambling on about the apparent similarities between himself and one of the members of Jonas Brothers.

Isak zones out until he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulls it up to see yet another message from his dad. He doesn’t bother opening it, just slides the phone back in his pocket, and then he feels the guy lean closer.

“Okay look, you don’t seem like the chatty type, so lemme just get to the point…”

The guy leans even closer, and Isak can feel his breath tickling his ear.

“You’re really fucking pretty, and I’d like to blow you in the restroom. Suck the cum right out of you...”

Isak pulls back, blushing furiously as a surge of arousal shoots straight to his dick.

“Sorry, I’m not, uh… gay.” He stammers, and the guy cracks a laugh. “Oh my God, look at you. To be so young and so fucking cute.”

He feels the guy’s hand settle around the base of his neck, caressing the skin there, fingers running through his curls, and he regrets not wearing a snapback. It doesn’t feel _right_. Still, it takes his drunk and sluggish brain a beat to pull away and put some distance between himself and the guy, whose name he has already forgotten. 

“Well…” the guy drawls, dropping his hand and giving him one last look, lips quirking into a smirk. “…Come find me if you change your mind.” He winks and turns around, and Isak watches him go.

_What the fuck._

He lifts his free drink to takes a sip, and then

“Isakyaki?”

It makes him stop dead in his tracks, the glass of vodka redbull frozen mid-air, as a feeling of panic curls up his spine, making him feel instantly nauseous.

A blond guy comes up to him; smiling and wearing a half-open, colorful Hawaii-shirt, and it only takes Isak three seconds to recognize the guy and put two and two together. Eazy_Eskild.

“Hey! So nice to see you here!” Eskild smiles.

“Hey.” Isak says back shakily, finally raising the drink to his lips.

“…See, I had a feeling I’d run into you here sooner or later.” Eskild smiles, and Isak starts to feel dizzy, his vision whiting out.

“I, uh…” he says weakly, setting the glass down on the nearest surface, and then he runs to the exit with his hand covering his mouth.

∙ 

Twenty minutes later, he’s sitting on the pavement outside across from the bar, trying to recover after having puked his guts out right next to the doorman. Eskild is still there, holding out a water bottle for him to drink and offering to walk him home. And Isak tries to tell him to _fucking just leave already_ because he’s not going home, but Eskild won’t budge, and finally he accepts Eskild’s offer to let him crash at his place. _Platonically_.

“I’m not gay. Just, so we’re clear…” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after having taken a sip of the water bottle.

“Okay.” Eskild nods in understanding. “So, like, no blowjob?”

“Huh?” Isak frowns, looking up at Eskild. “Uh, no…”

“Jeez, I’m kidding…” Eskild rolls his eyes slightly, pulls him up from the pavement, and they start walking down the street. “…You know, you could do with a little humility. You’re not _that_ hot after all.” 

∙

When he wakes up the next morning - on a mattress on the floor in Eskild’s room - he’s relieved to see that Eskild’s bed is empty. He’s feeling both physically and morally hungover and he really does _not_ want to deal with the travesty, which was last night, right now.

He slowly gets up from the mattress and gets dressed; having slept in his jeans and t-shirt, it’s really only a matter of throwing on his hoodie and toeing into his shoes. Draping his jacket over his arm, he quietly opens the door a bit to peek out. The apartment seems empty, so he steps out, shutting the door to Eskild’s room quietly behind him and then he leaves out the front door and runs down the stairs to the ground floor, stepping out into the sunlight. He squints at the sun and shuts the entrance door to the building behind him, then starts walking. He has no idea where to go, except for _not home_.

∙

Twenty minutes later, his feet have carried him downtown, passing by the street with the bar he visited last night. He purposefully avoids the street and continues straight ahead, eventually passing by Oslo Cathedral. It makes him stop in his tracks, looking up at the huge church backlit by the sun, and he walks closer, right up to the massive iron door to the church. The door is closed though, and when he pulls the handle, it’s locked. So, he turns around and walks into a supermarket instead, picking up a half-liter of Fanta and a bag of chips for breakfast.

He pays and takes his makeshift breakfast outside, finding a bench on the large square across from the cathedral and plops down, twisting the cap of the Fanta open and taking a long sip. Next, he opens the bag of chips and after eating a couple of handfuls, he wipes his greasy fingers on his jeans and pulls his phone up. 9:36 – still way too early to hit up Jonas or Magnus and ask them if they want to hang.

He opens Insta instead, [snaps and posts a quick pic](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/634612153183354880) and then shoots Eskild a message, because he guesses he kinda owes him that.

* * *

Eazy_Eskild

Active now

Hey thanks for letting me crash at your place.

You’re welcome. That old trashed mattress of mine is always available.

Haha thx

But um, could you please not tell Noora that I spent the night?

She and Eva like to gossip, and I just really don’t want to deal with that

Sure. My lips are sealed.

Thanks

No worries

* * *

He slips his phone back in his pocket and leans back against the bench, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the sun on his face. Slumping down a bit, he drops his tired head back to lean it on the back rest of the bench. The long curls at the nape of his neck tickle his skin as he leans his head back, and he gets a sudden flashback to the night before. That guy running his fingers through his hair… It makes his stomach clench uncomfortably, and he sits back up straight and takes up his phone to do a quick google search.

∙

It's an impulsive decision, but whatever. He still has money from his dad, and it's not like he has anywhere else to be. So, he walks to Grønland and plops down in a chair at some random middle eastern hairdresser/barbershop, who had time for walk-ins.

“So, what are you looking for?” the hairdresser-guy asks him while closing the velcro strap of the black plastic hairdressing gown at the back of his neck.

“Uh…I dunno, something short.” He says back, and the guy nods, picking up a pair of scissors from his apron and starts cutting off his curls.

∙

“What do you think?” the hairdresser-guys asks him thirty minutes later, showing him the hair at the back of his head with a mirror.

It’s short. No curls left.

“It looks nice.” He nods. “…Thanks.”

The hairdresser nods in return, removing the warm plastic gown, and Isak stands up and follows the guy to the counter, swiping his credit card to pay the 200 kroner for the haircut.

“Have a good day.” The hairdresser calls after him as he walks out the door, and he mutters back a “yeah thanks, you too.”

∙

He’s made it about twenty steps down the street when a familiar voice calls out

“Yooooo, professor Isak!”

He looks up from his phone to see Elias, who sends him a huge smile.

“Oi, don’t call me that, man.” He smiles as he claps Elias’ hand in hello.

Elias laughs. “ _Stephen Hawking_ then?”

“Fuck no. Worse.” He says back and instantly remembers Even’s nickname for him. _The Genius from Hartvig Nissen._ It makes his heart drop, so he internally shakes his head, trying to snap out of it.

“How are things, man?” Elias smiles, nodding at his newly cut hair. “…You look fresh.”

“Yeah, uh, good, good.” He lies with a little nod, then jerks his head in the direction of the hairdresser down the street, “…just had a haircut.”

“No way, at Ali’s?” Elias smiles, “…that’s where I’m going! Got an appointment in ten minutes.”

“Seriously?” Isak says back. “Wow, Oslo is so fucking small sometimes…”

“Yup.” Elias agrees, then smiles widely. “…By the way, I’ve been meaning to text you, bro.”

“Oh?” Isak says back, a tiny flutter in his chest making him shift his weight from foot to foot.

“Yeah, man, I wanted to thank you! Got a solid 4 on my physics exam.”

“Oi, really?” Isak smiles genuinely, “…congratulations, bro!”

“Thanks.” Elias smiles back with a little nod. “…I know it was Even’s idea for you to tutor us and all, but I just wanted to thank you because I probably wouldn’t have gotten a 4 if it wasn’t for you and I _know_ Mikael wouldn’t have…”

“Oh. Well. You’re welcome. And again, congratulations.” Isak says, the mention of Even making him a little uncomfortable again. He sucks in a breath, before asking Elias “…Um, speaking of, have you guys heard from Even?”

“No.” Elias says, and his smiles drops so quickly, Isak almost regrets asking. “…He didn’t show up for exams. But I heard he’s staying with relatives in Tromsø, so…”

“Okay.”

 _So, no news then_.

He desperately tries to think of something else to say, to steer the conversation away from Even, before Elias gets suspicious as to why he suddenly looks so heartbroken.

“…But um, congratulations on graduating and all.” he manages, and it must work because Elias sends him a smile in return. “Thanks bro. And hey if you’re game, you should come to our graduation party next weekend.” He smirks before continuing. “…I think Elise will be there.”

Isak squints for a second, trying to remember who the fuck Elise is, and why he should care- _oh, right that third-year chick who flirted with him at some Bakka-party while he was busy watching Even making out with Sonja on the dancefloor._

He thinks about joining the party to chill with Elias and Mikael and the other guys for a total of 2 seconds, but the thought of hanging around Even’s friends without him being there is just too… weird.

“Uh, I can’t make it next weekend, got some family stuff…Sorry.”

“Suit yourself, man.” Elias shrugs. “…All I’m saying is that Mikael’s gotten ahold of some premium kush… So, I mean you’re gonna miss out…”

Isak quirks a smile. “Hah, yeah well. I guess I’ll live…”

“Okay.” Elias smiles back and then claps his hand. “…Anyway, I should get going, if I want to make that appointment. Gotta look fresh for the party, y’know.”

“Of course.” Isak nods, clapping Elias’ hand. “…Take care, man.”

“You too, Isak. See you around.”

“Sure. Have a good summer.”

“You too, man.”

∙

Unsurprisingly summer turns out to be _shit_.

∙

After having stayed over on a mattress on Eskild’s floor for a couple of nights, Eskild gives him a key to a storage room in his basement, where there’s an old couch and he leaves him sheets and a pillow. And Isak is _so_ grateful. But with his luck he should’ve known it would be a short-lived solution. On 1 June, Eskild texts him a “Noora found out about the couch in the basement and has gone all boss bitch on me. I’m sorry, Isak.”

He sends Eskild a quick “okay.” back. Obviously, it’s not Eskild’ fault that their little basement arrangement fell apart, but he just feels so disappointed; there goes his _one_ place to crash that doesn’t ask questions and looks at him with worried eyes. Just his fucking luck.

∙

School’s out come 15 June, and a few days later it seems like all of Oslo have collectively vacated the city.

Jonas leaves for Spain on 18 June for a full three weeks with his family and Sana and Elias leave the next day to visit family in Morocco. Judging by Mikael’s insta posts he’s in Amsterdam with Mutta and Adam, and even Magnus and Mahdi are away on holiday – both somewhere up north.

Isak isn’t leaving for anything, has nowhere to go, so he’s at home in the house with his mother, trying to avoid her as much as possible. He spends most of his days aimlessly walking around Oslo or holed up in his room gaming or mindlessly scrolling his phone to pass time, _so_ close to unfollowing half of his friends on Insta, just to avoid seeing their happy vacay-faces. He’s not jealous of them, can’t think of a single nice vacation with his parents; not the time they went camping in Handangervidda national park and definitely not the time they went to Mallorca for a hellish two-week stay in some overrun tourist village. Family vacations in the Valtersen family have never been great. So, no, it’s not like he’s jealous of his friends being on family vacations, he just wishes he’d have somewhere to crash. And someone to hang out with. He feels so alone.

∙

The depressing thought of being alone on his 17th birthday is what makes him accept his dad’s lunch invitation, but it’s awkward right off the bat. He meets him outside a burger restaurant downtown, giving him a cursory one-armed hug, and then his dad notices his hair which is starting to grow out, but is still significantly shorter than when he last saw him over a month ago.

“Your hair looks nice, son. Good thing you got rid of those long curls.”

Isak doesn’t even bother with a reply, just trudges after his dad, and as they walk through the door to the burger place, he kinda already regrets going.

It’s a warm and sunny day, so his dad suggests that they sit in the courtyard out back, and as soon as they’ve sat down in the wooden chairs, he asks him if he wants a beer.

Isak lifts one eyebrow at his father. “You know I’m turning 17 and not 18, right?”

“Of course.” His father replies. ”…So, do you want a beer?”

”Sure.” Isak says, and his father nods, ordering two large draft beers and two burger menus.

A pretty, blonde waitress sets the two beers on the table a couple of minutes later, smiling at Isak. He ignores her, but his father nods a “thank you.” and promptly pushes one of the glasses towards Isak, then picks up his own and takes a sip.

Isak curls his fingers around the icy glass and takes a sip too. It’s a little weird drinking beer with his father like this; it’s definitely not something they’ve ever done before.

He swipes his tongue at his bottom lip to catch any residual foam, and his dad takes another sip of beer, like bracing himself, and then sets the glass back down.

“Your, uh, mother told me that-, that she saw you, uh, _kissing someone_ outside the house…?” He looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t actually want to have this conversation, and Isak immediately freezes.

What the fuck kinda question is that? He definitely does _not_ want to have this conversation either. 

“Uh…” he says back at his dad, probably wavering for a bit too long before continuing “…I didn’t.”

“Isak, it’s-“

He cuts his father off, before he can end the sentence, so he has no way of knowing what he was about to say.

_Isak, it’s okay._

_Isak, it’s wrong._

“…Look dad, I didn’t _kiss anyone outside the house_.”

“Isak, if you-, if you’re-“

“I’m not.” He says quickly, but more surely than he could’ve ever hoped for.

”Okay. Okay.” His father says, holding his hands out in defeat before reaching for his glass of beer again, finally dropping the subject.

The burgers arrive shortly thereafter, and they eat in silence.

Isak kinda wants to know, what his father was trying to tell him, but at the same time he doesn’t. Not here. Not now.

The rest of the meal is awkward and stilted, and when his father finally calls for the bill, Isak says a quick “thank you for lunch, dad.” and then he leaves. His father’s “happy birthday, Isak.” floats in the bright June air behind him. 

∙

After leaving his father at the burger place, he walks around town for hours, because he has nothing better to do. He even makes it out to Gamlebyen, rounding the skatepark and half-heartedly checks for Mikael, but he isn’t there. Probably still in Amsterdam, then.

It’s past 23 pm when he makes it back to his house, and unlocking the door as quietly as he can, he slips inside and then pads to his room, where he turns on his laptop and plops down in his bed. He looks out the window: it’s still so light outside, even though it’s nearing midnight.

Summer solstice. 

It makes him think back to the conversation with Even that night they jumped the fence to the botanical garden.

> _\- Have you ever been way up north? Like, Tromsø? It’s_ so _fucking beautiful up there, like summer solstice but for months on end. Nothing but light._
> 
> _\- That’s my birthday, actually. 21 June. Summer solstice._
> 
> \- _For real? Oh my God, that’s…fucking amazing!_

He wonders how bright it must be in Tromsø right now. Midnight sun.

He picks his phone up from his jeans pocket to check for messages, on the off-chance that Even texted him. That he thought of him too. But there are no new notifications on his lock screen.

Right.

Why the fuck would Even remember his birthday, when it only ever came up in a conversation that happened almost three months ago, when they were both high of out their mind, and Even was, _well_.

Thinking about _that_ makes his heart drop, and he feels stupid for even checking his phone. So he slides it back into his pocket and brings his laptop to bed with him, settling in for a long night of gaming or watching random YouTube videos or mindless Netflix shows or-

Anything to take his mind off stuff and forget about the worst birthday of his life _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, idk if I’ve said it before, but this story is turning out wayyyy different from what I originally had in mind. I just wanted to write a cute and smutty lil’ summer thing, but instead this fic took on a life of its own, and is now this huge 75k+ angsty beast about neglect, internalized homophobia, misunderstandings, doubt and heartbreak. And this is just from Isak’s pov. (I do miss Even a lot and am considering a chapter from his pov to check in with him and get a glimpse of how he’s handling everything thrown at him. Is that something you guys would be interested in?)
> 
> To be honest, this story is hella painful to write and sometimes I feel a bit like I’ve written myself into a corner. At the same time, even if it sometimes seems like an angsty desert walk, I do feel like I owe it to myself and the story to continue with this storyline and to do Isak justice and give him the coming-out story, the glow-up and the happy ending he deserves in this universe.  
> So, as it looks now, the story will most likely be in two parts; 
> 
> The Connect and Disconnect (chapter 1-12ish):  
> After meeting and connecting instantly during Isak’s first-year and everything subsequently crashing and burning, Isak and Even separately struggle with coming to terms with the hardest pieces of discovery they’ve made about themselves in their lives so far.
> 
> The Reconnect (chapter 13ish-?)  
> Meeting again after some time apart, Isak and Even start spending time together again as parts of their merging friend groups, and try to platonically (lol) reconnect in spite of baggage™. 
> 
> I do have key scenes for later chapters sketched out - with plenty of banter-y, fluffy, smutty and bright moments and an eventual happy ending for the boys. But the road there will be long and winding for a while longer. 
> 
> Bottom line: I hope some of yall are still invested in the story and will bear with me and have patience with the slow build of the story. Alt er love. ❤️


	12. Are you coming back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading and leaving kudos and commenting on the last chapter ❤️ I’m so happy you’re still invested in Isak’s story.
> 
> For my part, I’m still undecided on whether to include Even’s perspective, but for now enjoy another Isak pov 5k mess of angst with a couple glimpses of hope. _Ish._

Everyone comes back from summer vacation sometime in July, but summer is still shit until one day it’s a little less shit.

A few weeks after his miserable birthday, Isak gets a Facebook message from Eskild signaling his luck finally turning a bit, and the beginning of things being _a little_ _less shitty_.

* * *

**Eskild Tryggvason**

19:37

Hei Isak

Long time no see. How are things?

Don’t know if you already heard, but Noora is moving to London with William

And I mean I completely get it, cuz that guy is a fuckin god and also: LØNDØN!!

I’m so fuckin jealous

But anyway, her room will be available for rent from 4 August, if you’re interested?

Just thought I’d let u know before I put it on finn.no

* * *

Isak scans his eyes quickly over the words, eyes settling on the “room for rent”-part. He almost does a little happy dance where he’s sitting in bed, laptop perched on his thighs. Well, he does a fist pump, and that’s _almost_ like a happy dance.

* * *

**Eskild Tryggvason**

Hey Eskild

Thanks for the heads up and yes, I’m very interested in the room.

How much is rent?

Well since I’m so nice and bc I love saving strays, you can have it for 2500 kroner/month

* * *

Isak swipes his tongue over his lip, as he reads the number. 2500 kroner. That’s… a lot of money.

* * *

**Eskild Tryggvason**

Okay.

So, do you want it? Is that a yes?

Yes.

I mean, yeah I want it

But first I gotta find a way to get 2500 kroner for rent every month

Two words isak:

Sugar

Daddy

Still not gay Eskild

I’m kidding jeeeeeeeeeeez

Sugar *mama then

No.

Okay okay chill.

You have until Thursday to accept, prettyboy

Then it goes up on finn.no

Okay thx

No worries

* * *

He quits the message and flips his phone in his hand. He’s got three days to figure out the rent situation.

∙

Three days later, he still hasn’t come up with a solution. He’s been half-heartedly checking job listings but since he’s under 18 and still in school, there’s no way he can comfortably make 2500 kroner a month.

Flipping his phone in his hand, he knows his only solution is his dad. So, he scrolls down to “D” in his contacts and calls him. It takes him a while to convince him, but in the end his dad seems to understand and agrees to pay his rent. Courtesy of a bad conscience for leaving the family, probably. 

Thirty minutes later, he finally texts Eskild back.

* * *

**Eskild Tryggvason**

22:01

Hey Eskild

I’ll take the room. Figured the rent thing out with my dad

Your *daddy?

No, my actual father wtf

Haha ok

The room is yours, isakyaki

Noora moves out 4 August

Cool. I’ll move my stuff in then

Okay. Vipps me the first month of rent and we’re good to go.

👍

* * *

Isak closes Messenger and vippses Eskild the 2500 kroner for the first month of rent, courtesy of his father, and starts counting down the days to 4 August. 

∙

Jonas is his first choice to help him move, but Isak’s bad luck has it that Jonas is away on an impromptu cabin trip with Isabell on 1-4 August.

Isak is only slightly disappointed when Jonas texts him about it.

* * *

**Jonas**

**20:12**

Sorry Issy!!

I promise to help you unpack when I come back to Oslo tho

Sure man, no worries

Can’t wait to see your new place

It’s in Løkka right?

Yeah, Deichmans gate

Sweet

I’ll text you when I get back from the cabin

Cool.

Have a nice trip with Isa

Thanks bro ✌️

* * *

For a moment Isak considers asking Magnus or Mahdi to help him move, but he hasn’t even told them he’s moving yet, and in the end, he settles on asking his dad. Moving is definitely easier with a car available, even if he’s packing light. Also, he doesn’t have to explain to his dad why he can’t live at home anymore.

∙

He starts packing the night before, finding a couple of old moving boxes in the garage, and the rest he packs in IKEA-bags. He doesn’t bother clearing out his old room, just packs the necessities; his PlayStation, controllers and TV screen, a lamp, his schoolbooks, clothes, his (Jonas’) snapbacks and his laptop. Then he empties out the top drawer of his desk onto his bed; it’s a messy mix of pens, lighters, paper cut-outs of bad memes, he and Jonas used to make in 10th grade, a poster of Cindy Crawford in a swim suit, a few pictures from when he was a kid and a little ziplock bag of weed from Mikael, that he’d completely forgotten about. He swipes all the stuff off the bed and into his backpack and zips it closed, setting it on the floor next to the boxes. The rest of his room, he can pack up some other time. Or not.

He climbs into his bed for one last time, around midnight. Noora texted him a couple of days ago telling him, that he could have her bed for free, since she wouldn’t be shipping it to London, so he doesn’t even have to worry about moving his old bed. He pulls the covers up and looks over at the two boxes stacked in the corner of his room with a couple of IKEA-bags on top, thinking about how this will be the last time he’ll sleep in this bed and this room _ever_.

∙

His father comes over the next day, just as he’s stripping the bed of his blue-striped duvet, pillows and sheet and tossing everything into an IKEA-bag. His father helps him carry the boxes and bags out and load them in the trunk of the car, and then there’s only the matter of saying goodbye to his mom.

He finds her in the bedroom and tells her goodbye, but she doesn’t seem to care much about him leaving. Perhaps she doesn’t know that it’s permanent; that he’s moving out for good.

Perhaps she just doesn’t care.

Closing the door to his mom’s bedroom behind him, he goes back for a last round of his room.

He drops into a squat next to his bed and pulls out his skateboard, for a moment considering bringing it with him. He rolls it back and forth with his hand for a few seconds before rolling it back under the bed again and then he stands up, takes a last look at the room, he’s lived in his whole life and then he walks out, closing the front door behind him and joining his father in the car. 

He keeps his eyes on the street in front of them, as his father starts the engine and they pull out from the driveway for the fifteen-minute drive from the house to kollektivet in Grünerløkka. His dad tries to make conversation for the first five minutes, but from then on, the only sound in the car is the radio. 

Finally, they pull up to the curb at Deichmans gate 5, and they work together to unload the car, setting the boxes and bags on the pavement next to the entrance door.

“I can help you carry it up?” His father offers, already picking up a box, but Isak declines.

“Uh, no thanks, I’m good.”

For some reason, he doesn’t want his father to meet Eskild; he’d really rather carry everything up by himself, even if it means he’ll have to take three or four turns.

His father looks at him strangely for a second but then sets the box back down.

“…It’s fine, I got it, dad.” Isak says, and his father holds his hands out in defeat.

“Okay, suit yourself, son.”

They stand in silence opposite each other in front of the entrance door for a few moments, the boxes and bags in a neat stack beside Isak.

“…Well uh, thanks for-“ Isak finally says, trying to break the awkward silence and say goodbye to his father.

“-How long are you planning on staying here?” his father cuts in, looking up at the building.

“I don’t know, dad.”

“I think you should consider coming home, when your mom is better, Isak.”

“Not gonna happen.” Isak says plainly, kicking his foot lightly at one of the boxes.

_Not my home anymore._

“Isak...” his father says, and it sounds guilt trippy as hell, making Isak roll his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” His dad scolds.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He says back, and his dad lifts his eyebrows sternly.

“Look, you may be 17 and moving out now, but I’m still your father-” 

“Yeah? Start acting like one, then.” Isak snaps back defiantly, his jaw clenching with anger. He’s not about to defend himself to his dad, who has basically not been present for the past 8 months, and all he ever does is judge him.

“…But look dad-“ he says, trying to level his voice. “…If this is about rent, I’ll just-“

“It’s not about rent, Isak. I’ll pay for rent and food like we agreed.”

“Okay.” Isak nods, his voice softening a little. At least his dad is willing to help.

He doesn’t budge on the moving-back-home-thing though; he’s not coming back to live in that house with his mother. Ever.

A few long seconds pass between them, before Isak finally speaks up again.

“…Well, thanks for the help and the ride, dad.”

He gives his dad a little nod in goodbye and buzzes the door, picking up one of the boxes and an IKEA-bag, pushing the door open with his hip as soon as it clicks open, leaving his dad standing on the pavement. 

When he makes it to the second flight of stairs, he’s a little out of breath, so he takes a quick break to lean against the wall, balancing the box on his thigh. Looking out the window, he can see the back of his dad’s car turn a corner on the street, driving off.

It takes him two more rounds to carry everything up, and the last box is heavy as shit.

∙

“Is that all your stuff?” Eskild asks him, when he breathlessly shuts the door behind him after the last round.

“Yup.” he croaks out, looking at the few boxes and IKEA-bags in the corridor.

“Okay.” Eskild nods. “…Well, Noora’s room isn’t completely empty yet, I think she and William will stop by in a couple of hours to pick up the rest. So, for now just leave your stuff in the living room?” Eskild says, jerking his head towards the living room.

Isak agrees with a breathy “okay.” and picks up a box, carrying it to the living room. Eskild helps him with the heavy one, stacking it on top of the other.

“So…” Eskild smiles with his hands at his waist, after they’ve moved the stuff into the living room, and Isak has caught his breath. “…Welcome to Casa del Eskild. Or, well, Linn lives here too. Have you met her?”

“Uh, no, don’t think so.”

“No…she doesn’t really venture out of her room much.” Eskild says, and just then, there’s a sound of a door, and a ginger girl walks out in sweats. She looks tired and a few years older than Isak.

“Linn!” Eskild says enthusiastically, “…we were just talking about you! This is Isak.”

The girl looks at Isak for a second, then introduces herself curtly as “Linn.” before slowly padding to the kitchen. “…So, you’re Eskild’s new stray…?” she asks from behind a cabinet door.

Isak pulls a shrug. “I guess…I go to Nissen with Noora.”

“Okay.” She says. “…Welcome.” It’s not cold, just…disinterested.

Isak nods a quick “thanks”.

“Oh hell, I almost forgot!” Eskild says, drawing his phone up from his pocket with all the energy and enthusiasm Linn seems to be lacking.

A second later Isak’s phone plings with an invitation to a group chat called _Kollektivet_. 

“…This is where the magic happens, so to speak.” Eskild smiles with a nod at Isak’s phone. “…Or, you know, where we let each other know if we’re planning on bringing home hookups or-“

“…Uh, I don’t remember you ever warning me and Noora about you bringing a hookup home.” Linn says drily before raising a glass of water to her lips, and Eskild rolls his eyes at her. “Oh hush, you’re just jealous, Linn. It’s not a good look on you.”

She shrugs and slowly passes by them, walking back to her room.

“Anywayyyyyy…“ Eskild continues when the door to Linn’s room clicks shut behind her, “…the group chat is where we inform each other about important stuff like hookups or whose turn it is to buy toilet paper.”

“Got it.” Isak says with a nod, briefly wondering if he’ll ever bring home a hookup. And if so, who would it be. 

“…You get your own cabinet in the kitchen, and a shelf in the fridge.” Eskild says. “…You should probably put your name on it, because, uh, Linn sometimes steals food…”

Isak nods, following Eskild around the apartment.

“…We take turns cleaning the house, and there’s a washer and dryer in the basement.”

“Cool.”

Eskild takes out a couple of keys from a drawer in the kitchen and gives them both to Isak. “This is for the apartment, and this is for the basement.” He smiles. “…but I guess, you already know that one.”

“Yup.” Isak nods, accepting the keys from Eskild and sliding them into his pocket, before looking back at him. “Thanks for…y’know.”

“No worries, Isak.” Eskild smiles. “…Welcome to kollektivet.”

“Thank you.”

∙

It’s a little weird waking up in his room the next morning, and when he opens his eyes, he’s momentarily disoriented. Looking around he spots the couple of boxes and IKEA-bags in a corner of the room and remembers. Right, he moved out of his house yesterday. He burrows back into the pillow and duvet for a second; at least they are familiar.

A couple of minutes later he gets up, rummaging in one of the IKEA-bags for a moment for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and then he heads to the kitchen for breakfast.

Padding though the corridor it strikes him that he doesn’t have any food; he hasn’t yet populated his shelf in the fridge or the cabinet.

He continues to the kitchen anyway, and Eskild is there with a cup of tea in his hand and wearing a short, shiny satin robe.

“Good morning Isak!” He smiles. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. You?”

“I did yes, thank you. Got my 8 hours of beauty sleep.”

Isak nods and pours himself a glass of water, gulping it down.

Eskild eyes him for a second then opens his own cabinet and pulls out a box of cereal. “Here, help yourself.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” Isak says, accepting the cereal box from Eskild.

“…First time is free.” Eskild winks, then takes a sip of tea before continuing. “…But seriously, buy some food, Isak. I’m not gonna let you die on my watch, but I’m also not sponsoring your teenage growth spurt.”

Isak snorts a surprised laugh at Eskild’s rant.

“Uh, sure. I’ll go buy some food later.”

“You do that.” Eskild says. “…and get your own shampoo and bodywash too, cuz I’m not sharing mine.”

“Got it.”

∙

Jonas stops by with a six-pack of Tuborg late in the afternoon, after Isak has returned from the supermarket with pasta, ketchup, cereal, Grandis, milk, a toothbrush, shampoo and bodywash.

“Housewarming present” Jonas smiles, as he hands over the cold beers to Isak and shrugs out of his hoodie, draping it over a chair Noora has left behind.

“Oi, nice, thanks bro.” Isak smiles back, and immediately breaks off two cans, handing one out to Jonas, and pulling one open for himself. They settle on the floor in front of the bed.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers, man. Congratulations on your new digs.” Jonas smiles, looking around Isak’s bare room.

“Thanks.” Isak nods and then takes a sip of beer.

“You moved in yesterday, right?“

“Yeah. My dad drove the stuff over.”

“Shit, sorry I wasn’t around to help…”

“No worries.” Isak assures him, then takes another sip of beer. “…How was your cabin trip with Isabell?”

“Ugh.” Jonas says dismissively, before taking a long sip of beer of his own. Isak looks at him expectantly.

“…Not great, to be honest. We broke up last night when we got back to Oslo.”

“Nei?” Isak says, widening his eyes a little at Jonas’ confession.

“Yeah.” Jonas says with a little shrug.

“Are you, uh, okay?” Isak asks, and it’s like a lame echo of all the times Jonas has asked him those exact same words.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jonas says, but it’s barely a second before he pulls up a little ziplock of weed from his pocket. “…Wanna smoke?”

“Sure.” Isak says, recognizing the _unwillingness to_ _talk_. If Jonas wants to get high to forget about shit, Isak will gladly abide.

“…By the way, Mikael says hi.” Jonas says as he starts rolling up on the floor.

Isak nods. “Yeah, I saw on Insta he was in Amsterdam with Adam and Mutta…?”

“Yeah. Lucky fuckers.” Jonas says before flicking his tongue at the paper to seal the joint. “…Wanna go to Amsterdam next summer?” he smiles at Isak.

Isak snorts a laugh. “With what money? Dude, I’m _broke_.”

“So, get a new tutoring gig, or something.” Jonas says while polishing off the joint with his fingers.

“Nah, I think that was a one-time thing.” Isak shrugs.

“Why? Because it’s not gonna be Even?”

“ _What_?” Isak asks, and it comes out all high-pitched and weird, as his heart starts pounding at Jonas’ question.

Jonas in turn just looks at him for a couple of seconds, while Isak’s heart is going wild in his chest and he tries to not let it show on his face; tries to act _cool_ in spite of his voice already having betrayed him by going up several octaves.

Then Jonas drops his gaze and draws up a lighter from the pocket of his jeans, lighting the joint.

“Nevermind, man.” 

∙

“I can help you unpack, if you want?” Jonas says a little later in a sorta peace offering, after they’ve smoked the blunt to a stub, and Isak’s heart has finally calmed down.

He nods at the boxes and bags still in the corner of the room, and Isak agrees with a “sure. Thanks, man.”

“No problem, Issy.” Jonas smiles, as he stands up lazily and walks over to the boxes, lifting the top one down on the floor and opening it. 

Isak stands up too and drags a couple of IKEA-bags over to the blue closet Noora left behind, and tosses all his clothes in there, while Jonas sets up his tv and PlayStation, and plugs in the one lamp Isak brought from his old room.

”You could do with a little decoration though, man.” Jonas then says, looking around at the bare walls.

“Yeah, I guess.” Isak agrees, looking around at the walls, too. Then he remembers all the shit from his old room that he swiped into his backpack, and he grabs the bag, zips it open and hands it to Jonas. “Here. Go nuts.”

Jonas reaches his hand down into the backpack and smiles when he pulls up some of the little paper cut-outs they made together in 10th grade. “Oi! You saved these?”

“Yup.” Isak smiles. “Can’t let that stellar meme game go to waste.”

“Hah no, you’re right, Is.” Jonas says, studying one of the cut-outs closer.

“I think there’s a roll of tape in there too.” Isak says, nodding at the backpack, and Jonas rummages around a bit before coming up with the tape, and he and Isak set about decorating the wall over Isak’s bed.

“Cindy goes over the bed too, right?” Jonas says, when he pulls up the swimsuit poster.

“Where else?” Isak smirks, hoping Jonas doesn’t see through him; how he’s never once succeeded in making himself come while fantasizing about Cindy Crawford in a hi-cut swimsuit. Or any chick, really, swimsuit or not. 

He must be believable enough though, because Jonas just nods and tapes up the poster.

Isak digs into the bag and pulls up an old Simon and Garfunkel meme of himself and Jonas, taping it to the wall, and a couple minutes and cut-outs later, they both step back to admire their work.

“Much better.” Jonas smiles.

“Mhmm.” Isak agrees. “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome, man.” Jonas smiles, and Isak breaks off another two beers from the six-pack.

“Our reward for a job well done.”

“Agreed.” Jonas nods, and they both pull their beers open, clinking them together in a silent toast.

After they’ve finished the beers, Isak digs deep in his backpack for the little bag of weed from Mikael, and they roll another blunt and settle on Isak’s bed for a few games of FIFA and the Grandis he bought earlier. 

It’s a pretty good housewarming. 

∙

He tells Magnus and Mahdi about moving out and getting his own room in the kollektiv in Løkka a couple of days later, and the boys immediately insist on a proper housewarming party, or at least a proper pre-game to celebrate his freedom.

There’s still one last weekend left before school starts, so the Friday before they start their second year at Nissen, Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas show up with a bunch of beer and weed and set up shop in his room. Isak borrows Eskild’s wireless speaker from the living room and connects it to his laptop, and they blast 90’s hip-hop while getting crossfaded on beer and weed. 

“Shiiiiiit, I can’t believe you got your own place now, man.” Magnus says, after they’ve killed the first six-pack of beer and Isak passes him the bong, courtesy of Mahdi. “…I mean, it’s so fuckin’ cool. Living on your own. Think about all the shit you can do…All the girls you can bring home... like, no parents to interrupt or anything...” he takes a deep hit of the bong and exhales the smoke, vaguely aiming for the open window.

“Yeah, I’m jealous, man.” Mahdi agrees with a nod. “…My mom is always so fucking nosy.”

“I guess.” Isak says, taking another sip of beer, already starting to feel crossfaded. “...Well, there’s still Linn and Eksild...Eksild…uh, _Eskild_.” he corrects himself, but Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas are already howling with laughter at his mispronunciation.

“ _Eksild_?? Dude, how high are you??!” Jonas laughs, and Magnus exclaims a loud “ _Eksiiiiiiild_!!!” like it’s the funniest thing ever, and for a while it kinda is. They’re definitely getting crossfaded, and _fast_.

“Eskild is gay though, right?” Magnus says after their laughter has tapered off, and for a second Isak feels paranoid.

“Uh, how did you know?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“He talked about blowjobs at William’s party…” Magnus says matter-of-factly. “…like, _giving_ head. So, I mean…”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, he’s gay.” Isak says back.

“How do you know him, by the way? Like, how did you get this room?” Mahdi asks, taking another hit of the bong.

“Uh, I don’t really...” Isak lies. “…I mean, I met him at William’s party too, but I don’t _know_ him. It was Noora who offered me her room.”

“Okay. Cool.” Mahdi nods, and passes the bong to Jonas, who supplies a “he’s awesome, though. _Eksild_.”

Magnus and Mahdi start laughing again, and Isak can’t help but feel like he just dodged a bullet. 

∙

Around midnight they continue to a house party nearby in Løkka, hosted by Jonas’ friend Matheo, who’s a second-year at Elvebakken.

“Hey Issy, you should totally bring a chick home…!” Magnus says drunkenly, as they make their way up the stairs to Matheo’s place, following the sound of loud music. “…You live right around the corner, man!”

“Yeah bro, you should christen the place with a fuck.” Mahdi says, and Isak just shrugs. “Yeah, maybe…If I can find a chick hot enough.”

“Don’t be so picky, you can’t afford to be choosy looking like _that_ …” Mahdi smirks.

Isak frowns at him, eyebrows pulling together tightly. “What do you mean man, have you seen yourself??”

Magnus and Jonas laugh at the banter, and they finally reach the landing, all four stumbling in through the door to the apartment crossfaded as fuck.

Inside the party is loud and _hot_ ; the humid mid-August air making the smallish 3-bedroom apartment stifling despite open windows in every room, and Isak and the guys quickly discover that almost everyone is hanging out on either the balcony or in the yard behind the apartment building.

They find Jonas’ friend Matheo in the kitchen and clap his hand in greeting, and then Jonas jerks his head at the balcony.

“Wanna get some air?” he yells over the music.

“Sure, it’s so fucking hot in here.” Matheo yells back, and they all migrate to the large balcony.

Outside Matheo pulls up a pack of cigarettes, and Jonas produces a joint from his backpack, and they light up, Jonas passing the joint to Isak after a couple of drags.

A couple of girls step out onto the balcony, just as Isak is closing his lips around the joint. One of the girls turns to Isak and Jonas, as she pulls up a pack of cigarettes from a black purse.

“Hey, any of you have a lighter we can borrow?” she smiles sweetly, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Sure.” Jonas says casually and draws up a lighter from his jeans pocket, handing it to her. “Thanks.” The girl says and gives Isak a lingering look before turning back to her friend and lighting up a cigarette. 

“Oi!” Magnus says quietly, elbowing Isak. “…she’s game, bro. Go flirt with her.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Isak says, taking another drag of the joint.

“What, she’s not _hot enough_ for you?” Magnus says disbelievingly.

Isak pulls a nonchalant shrug. She’s beautiful. They both are. _Objectively_.

“What the fuck, Isak…” Magnus says with a smile, shaking his head in disbelief, and Isak looks over at the girls again. Maybe he _could_ bring one of them home. Like, if he was drunk enough, or high enough, maybe he could fuck her, and-

“…Hey, do you remember that hot third-year, who never graduated?” the blonde girl then says to her friend, and Isak immediately homes in on their conversation. They’re probably Bakka-chicks, so “the hot, third-year _”_ could be-

“Yeah, that tall, blond guy from 3.MKC, right?”

“Yeah. _Even_ …”

Isak’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Even’s name, and in .2 seconds, his body is in full alert mode despite being sluggish and drunk about a second ago. Out of the corner of his eye he checks if Magnus, Jonas and Mahdi are listening in on the girls’ conversation too, but they’re deep in their own conversation about football. So, he focuses back on the girls, blocking everything else out to be able to hear their conversation.

“…I heard that he might be returning to Bakka to finish his third-year… Like, imagine if he comes back, and he's suddenly in _our_ class!”

“…Oh my God!" the other girl squeals enthusiastically. "...But um, why didn’t he graduate? Like, I feel that there was so much drama around that in the spring. Like, it was sorta this year’s Bakka gossip, you know? They should include it in the revue.”

“Yeah, I know!” The other girl laughs, and Isak starts to feel kinda sick overhearing gossip about Even. Still, he’s curious as hell; this is the only news he’s gotten about Even in months.

“…I’m actually still not sure, why he didn’t graduate. Karianne from 3STA, who knows his girlfriend, says that he went crazy…”

“Crazy how?”

“I don’t know… Like, he just _went crazy._ Remember he wrote all that weird stuff on Face and Insta…like, bible verses and shit?” The girl takes a drag of her cigarette, and Isak suddenly _hates_ her. He’s definitely not taking her home; there’s no chance in hell he’ll ever get it up for her, no matter how high or drunk he gets.

“Yeah, I remember.” The other girl nods. “…But, wasn’t it something about a boy, too?”

Isak freezes.

 _What_? He never saw any Facebook- or Insta posts about _a boy_. What did Even write in those posts?

He turns his head slightly to check on Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi, but they’re still deep in conversation with Matheo and a couple of girls, that he didn’t even notice joining. 

“…Yeah...” the girl continues, “...but he took those posts down real quick. His girlfriend said that he didn’t mean any of it. Like, he’s not gay or whatever. He’s not religious either.”

_He didn’t mean any of it._

It’s basically just a confirmation of what he already suspected; there never really was a thing between them. Not from Even’s part, anyway. Still, Isak feels dizzy and his knees start to go kinda weak.

“...Okay… But, like, is he returning to Bakka, or?”

“Dunno, maybe. Karianne said that his girlfriend said that he was considering it. Guess we'll see next week.”

“Well, I mean, he has to graduate, right?”

“I guess. Or maybe he quit school for good?”

“Maybe…” The other girl shrugs. “…I wouldn’t mind, if he returned, though. Like, okay, maybe he’s kinda crazy, but he’s still fucking hot.”

“I know right? I’d fuck him.”

“Mhmm, I bet he’s-“

Isak zones out and half-heartedly turns back to the guys, the joint burnt down to a stub between his fingers and his legs feeling like jelly.

_He might be returning to Bakka._

∙

Waking up the next morning, he’s disoriented again until he recognizes the striped blue duvet and the blue closet across from the bed. He’s in his own bed, in his own room. Well, technically it’s _Noora’s bed,_ but he guesses he should start calling it his own now.

When he half-sits up on his elbow, he’s hit with an instant headache, so he lies down again with a groan, squinting at the bright yellow sunlight streaming in through the window. He makes a mental note to himself to get curtains or at least put up a blanket or something. Anything to block out the persistent sunlight. Though honestly, he’s so hungover that he has probably forgotten all about it tomorrow. 

There’s a beep from his phone, so he leans over to pick it up from his discarded jeans on the floor and slides the lockscreen open.

It’s a text from Jonas asking him if he’s alive. He shoots back a quick “barely.”, quitting the conversation.

And then he sees it. The messages he sent Even last night. With slightly shaky fingers, he opens the conversation, cringing when he rereads the misspelled words and the timestamp.

* * *

**Even Bakka**

02:12

Hey are you comign backto Oslo?

I mean I heard that you staying in Tromsø

But are you coming back??

* * *

Unsurprisingly there’s no answer.

And after a while Isak stops checking for one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think? Will Even be returning to Bakka to finish his third year, or will he be staying in Tromsø?


	13. Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Straight!Isak 2.0 (including a paraphrase of the canon bathtub scene from s3e1), a study sesh with Sana, _luck_ , kosegruppe, Christmas, and a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this weird, messy, loooooong, desert walk of a chapter. Yesterday I debated rewriting the whole thing, but decided against it. It could _definitely_ do with some revisions, but I wanted to get it out there before Christmas, so here u go, enjoy this 8,5k mess. (Might go back and edit a bit, since my editing skills improve about 400% once I've posted to AO3, lol. We’ll see.)

Everything _sucks_.

Isak is just shy of two months into his second year at Nissen when he draws the conclusion but really, everything has sucked for a couple of months now.

The school year could hardly have started off worse; walking into the school yard on his first day with a second-day hangover and having pathetically drunk-texted Even a few days before with no reply wasn’t exactly the ideal way to start off his second year at Nissen. 

And now two months later, it’s not like anything has improved; he never heard back from Even, has pretty much given up hope on ever hearing from him again, and he doesn’t even know if the rumors are true and Even is back in Oslo, or if he’s still in Tromsø. Doesn’t know which he prefers either; for Even to stay in Tromsø forever, or for him to be back in Oslo, where he can bump into him anytime.

He could probably just ask Mikael or Elias about whether Even is back in Oslo or not, but he hasn’t seen them for a while, and texting them out of the blue about Even would be… suspicious.

So, he tries to stop thinking about him and the still-unanswered “ _are you coming back_ ”-texts and tries focusing on school instead, but it’s _so_ boring. In spite of him picking a full science elective this year with math, physics, chemistry and biology.

He just feels so fucking _done_ with everything. Bored with all his classes, annoyed with his friends, with Eskild and Linn, with his dad, _everything_. Like, he’s happy about his room, living at kollektivet is about a thousand times better than living at home with his mom, but still, he feels like he’s sleepwalking through his days; he spends all his time _not thinking about Even_ either gaming, watching Netflix or getting crossfaded at lame parties, half-heartedly flirting with random chicks for show. He feels like he’s living _fake_ , and it’s making him testy as fuck.

It hardly stops him from going to lame parties and getting fucked up, though. So, when Eva throws a house party a Saturday night with her mom out of town on business, Isak is there with a couple of six-packs of beer and a ziplock bag of weed in his pocket ready to spend yet another night getting crossfaded and _not thinking about shit_.

Rumors spread quickly at Nissen, so when word first gets out that Eva has a whole house to herself and is having a few people over, half of Nissen’s first- and second-years and even a few third-years show up, and suddenly it’s a rager instead of a little house party. When Isak gets there with Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi, there are already people everywhere; making out against the walls, dancing, playing beer pong.

After a while the boys wordlessly decide to migrate to one of the bathrooms to get high, so they set up shop in the large bathtub, light up the bong, and within a minute they’re talking about chicks, because that’s all they ever talk about these days.

“…Damn, those first-years are fiiiiiine, man…” Mahdi says dreamily as he takes the first hit of the bong. “…Did you see that blonde chick with the see-through top when we got in? Dayuuuum.”

Jonas and Magnus both agree and Isak is already zoning out, focusing on the weird sound of the water bubbling at the bottom of the bong, when Mahdi inhales.

“…Uh huh, there’s like not even _one_ first-year I wouldn’t fuck. Honestly.” Magnus says enthusiastically and Isak snaps out of it, looking up at Magnus and rolling his eyes at him.

“Dude, what the fuck, have some standards…” he says, leaning over to grab a can of Tuborg and pull it open.

“…What do you mean _standards_?” Mahdi frowns at him before taking another hit of the bong. “…I totally agree with this guy right here.” He shakes Magnus’ shoulder, “…there are _a lot_ of hot first-years…”

“I second that.” Jonas nods, a pair of sunglasses slipping down his nose, and Isak speaks up again.

“I don’t agree.” He shakes his head slightly.

He’s in a mood tonight. Has been for quite some time. More or less since the school year started to be honest.

“… _What_?!” Mahdi says back incredulously, challenging his statement. “…You don’t think there are any hot first-years?? Bro, what the fuck?”

“Yeah Isak, what the fuck?” Magnus parrots, and Jonas tilts his head, shooting Isak a curious look over the top of those ridiculous sunglasses.

Through the haze of beer and weed, Isak realizes he should probably say something to rectify the situation. It’s starting to feel like he’s one sentence away from the boys asking him if he’s _gay or something_. 

So, he pulls a nonchalant shrug, adjusting the snapback a bit over his hair, which has grown out into longish curls again. “…I mean, there is _one_. _One_.” He says, thinking about the first girl that comes to mind. “…That tall, short-haired girl, you know the one… Dark hair, brown eyes. She’s hot. Yes.”

“Yeah, man, she’s beautiful.” Jonas says with a nod, and Mahdi and Magnus both hum in acknowledgement.

“She’s model material, bro.” Mahdi says then. “…I don’t think, you have a chance with her, she’s way out of your league.” 

Isak frowns, eyebrows drawing together at Mahdi’s words. “What the fuck, I totally have a shot with her.” 

“Hah, you wish bro.” Magnus says, taking a hit of the bong. Then he exhales and looks at Isak, passing him the bong. “…It’s funny though, Issy, I always thought you were more into blondes…?”

“Why would you think that?” Isak frowns again, accepting the bong from Magnus.

“I don’t know.” Magnus says with a little shrug, “…I guess I just pictured you with a blonde chick…”

“You _picture me with chicks_? Oi.” Isak smirks, raising one eyebrow at Magnus before taking a hit of the bong.

“Ugh, no, not like that…” Magnus says, trying to save it, but it’s too late.

“Well, I don’t know about you, man…” Isak says on an exhale, “…But I prefer Pornhub over picturing my friends having sex.” He punctuates his jab at Magnus with a quirked eyebrow, making Jonas and Mahdi both snort a laugh.

It’s true, though, he _does_ prefer Pornhub; hasn’t jerked off to the thought of his friends ever. Except for Jonas a few awkward times, back when he was still nursing a crush on him.

And, well. Even. More than a few times. 

“…Ha. Ha. Very funny, Isak. But I don’t, like, _picture you having sex_ , jeez.” Magnus says defiantly, and Isak gives him another smirk.

“Whatever you say, man.”

“Oii” Jonas says, and Magnus throws his head back with a groan and a “…I’m really not bouncing back from this, am I?”, which only makes everyone laugh harder, including Isak. He loves dragging Magnus, it’s so fucking easy. And it always does the job of removing the attention from himself for a couple of minutes, so.

When Magnus finally snaps his head back up, Isak takes mercy on him, though.

“…To answer your question though Mags, I don’t prefer blondes. I honestly don’t give a fuck about chicks’ hair color.”

Another truth.

“…Okay.” Magnus nods, then looks between the three of them. “…What about tits? Like what are you guys’ preferences? Do you prefer big or small tits?”

Before any of them has time to answer, the door to the bathroom opens, and two girls stumble inside tipsily; one of them the dark-haired girl, Isak was just telling the boys about, and Magnus lets out a surprised but enthusiastic squeak.

“Oh my God, Isak!” He says with a wide smile, trying to keep it stealth, but obviously failing, blonde hair flopping down over his forehead. “…Your girl!!”

Jonas and Mahdi both snort a laugh, and then Jonas half-turns to Isak, giving him a challenging smirk and Isak just about rolls his eyes at his fucking luck, because what the hell. What are the fucking odds of that girl walking in right now? He didn’t even know she was at the party.

The boys are all three looking at him expectantly by now, so he pulls another nonchalant shrug and decides to _turn it on_. 

“Hey.” He says casually at the pretty short-haired girl, who’s talking to her friend and rummaging in a cabinet, apparently searching for pills to get high.

“Uh, hey.” She says back with roughly zero interest, and _okay, fuck it_ , Isak likes a challenge.

“Do you know who you look like?” He says flirtingly, tilting his head, trailing his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Yes.” The girl says back nonchalantly, probably thinking he’s gonna say Natalie Portman or Keira Knightley.

“…The little dude from Stranger Things, who’s really a girl…Eleven.” He says instead, then starts giggling. He’s so fucking high, he can’t even keep a straight face.

“Um, what the fuck? That’s a shitty thing to say…” the other girl says, while the short-haired girl just stares at him.

“No, she’s cute!” Isak says back. “…I mean, if you’re into 13-year old boys.” He giggles again, and so do Magnus, Jonas and Mahdi.

“Huh?” the short-haired girl says, and Isak bounces back with a “no, for real, I’m just messing with you. You’re beautiful.” He sends her another flirty smile. “…I’m Isak, what’s your name?”

“Emma.” She says, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

“Emma, you’re really fucking beautiful.” He looks at her genuinely.

She _is_ beautiful. Mahdi was right, she could probably be a model.

Her half-smile blooms into something more, lighting up her whole face, and a couple of minutes later they’re making out against the tiled bathroom wall, and the boys slink off after non-discreetly low-fiving him and Magnus mumbling an awestruck “…very nice, Isak. _Wow_.”

Predictably though he loses interest in her the second Magnus closes the bathroom door behind himself, and he finds himself alone with her. She starts kissing down his chest, clearly about to drop to her knees, and like the other times this has happened with random chicks, he feels nothing. Absolutely zero arousal.

“Heyyyyy…” he smiles, pulling her back up and she shoots him a confused stare. And he gets it; he’s probably the only 17-year old guy in human history to turn down a blowjob. She looks like she’s just about to ask him what the fuck is going on, when her friend from before opens the door to the bathroom abruptly and drags her out by the hand with an “Emma, the cops are here. Let’s go.”

She gives him one last look before she leaves the bathroom, and he tries for a charming smile back. After all, it’s not her fault he played her.

When the door shuts behind her, he leans back against the wall for a moment, for once praising his luck; her friend’s excellent timing just saved him from racking his brain for an excuse for not wanting a blowjob.

_Thanks, random first-year chick._

He closes his eyes for a second, and it’s completely quiet in the bathroom, but through the door, he hears some commotion downstairs, and that’s when he remembers that he’s still got about 40 grams of weed in a ziplock bag in his jeans pocket, and according to the random girl, the cops just showed up.

_So much for luck after all._

He snaps his eyes back open and opens the bathroom door, then scrambles down the stairs to the living room, where the cops are shutting down the party and searching some guys for drugs.

40 grams of weed is way too much to be let off with a warning, so he stealthily slinks along the wall and hides the bag of weed in a vase, so the cops won’t bust him for possession.

Then he bails, sneaking out through the garden to dodge the cops, and when he spots Jonas on his bike on the corner of the street, he runs to him with adrenaline coursing through his body and jumps on, catching a ride on the back of the bike.

Jonas starts pedaling with a laugh, the bike wobbling heavily down the street, and Isak can’t stop his thoughts from going there, thinking about the last time he hitched a ride on the back of a bike; already some six months ago, when he and Even nearly got caught getting high in botanical garden after hours, and they jumped the fence, and he hopped onto the back of Even’s bike, body buzzing with adrenaline as Even drove them all the way back to his house. That was the night everything went to shit. The night Even kissed him. The last time he saw him.

“…Yo Is, wanna try finding another party? It’s only midnight.” Jonas says, looking back at him for a second over his shoulder, and he finally snaps out of it.

“…Absolutely.” He nods back at Jonas then starts rapping, “… _Fuck the police, coming straight from the underground_ …”

It makes Jonas laugh in front of him.

“…Let’s go. Watch out, Grefsen!” he then yells out, and Jonas’ responding laugh and “skrtttt skrttttt!” carries in the wind, the bike shaking a little with Jonas’ effort of trying to ride uphill with him on the back.

They’re gonna find another party, and he’s going to drink and smoke until he forgets the memory of _that night_.

∙

∙

Two days later he shows up to Monday morning’s biology class with another second-day hangover, and he learns the hard way that Sana has his bag of weed. The one he hid in a vase in Eva’s living room at the party Saturday.

When he walks into the bio lab, he spots Sana in one of the back rows and unknowingly walks up to her, lazily plopping down next to her like usual with a casual “yo.”

Both choosing a full science elective this year they’re currently spending at least two hours of class together every day, most days even more than that, so from day one he figured he might as well make the best of it, and they’ve sat next to each other every day since then. After all, she’s the smartest in class. Apart from himself, obviously.

So, today starts out like any other Monday really, with him lazily pulling up his laptop and textbook, until Sana takes a long look at him, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“You know, what I really hate? When people _fuck_ their friends over.”

“Huh? What?” he says, frowning back at her in confusion.

“I have your drugs.” She says testily. “…But just so you know, Eva could’ve gotten into a lot of trouble because of you.”

_Oh. Shit._

“Uh, okay.” He says back lamely, “…but she didn’t.”

It’s a weak comeback and he knows it. Leaving 40 grams of weed in Eva’s living room with the police searching the place, was a dick move.

“No, she didn’t because I took it…” She snaps back and then proceeds to coerce him into joining the revue _kosegruppe_ in exchange for getting his weed back.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” Isak finally says after realizing there’s no getting out of it; he has nothing to negotiate with. He still rolls his eyes at her though, and she looks way too pleased about him joining the fucking _kosegruppe_. He knows better than to protest if he has hopes of ever getting his weed back, and there’s no time to protest anyway, not with the teacher walking in through the door and starting class with a loud “everybody be quiet please and open your books on page 67.”

Sana turns to her textbook with a smirk, and Isak half-heartedly flips his book open, skimming over the text about blood sugar and diabetes before proceeding to zone out for the next 40 minutes. The second day hangover is making him sluggish and uninterested, though he pretty much feels that all the time, hangover or not. He does however manage to catch the teacher slinging out an assignment five minutes before the bell rings:

“…So, for the first group project this year, you will work in groups of 2-4, on a topic of your own choosing, but within the overall subject of human biology. Deadline for hand-in is in two weeks.”

A blonde girl sitting in the front row puts her hand up. “Um, would it be alright to write about the female reproduction system?”

The question makes Sana half-turn and shoot Isak a look, rolling her eyes at the girls’ question, and Isak quirks a single eyebrow in return; it’s a private thing between them - wordlessly bitching about the other students in class.

The teacher replies an exasperated “…yes, Marit, the female reproduction system is considered human biology, so…” and Sana snorts the quietest of laughs making Isak send her a rare, crooked smile back. Yup, they’re definitely the smartest ones in class.

“…Anyway, that’s it for today. See you on Wednesday.” The teacher finally says, and Isak and Sana both pack up their laptops.

“So.” Sana says, as she slides her textbook into her backpack. “…Wanna partner up for the assignment?”

“On human biology? Yup, absolutely.” Isak says, lifting his eyebrows in emphasis because _fuck yeah_ , he’s not stooping down and partnering up with anyone but Sana.

“Cool.” She nods. “…how about we meet at my place tomorrow after school?”

“Deal.” He says. “…See you tomorrow, Sanasol.”

∙

The next day sees him walking up the stairs to Sana’s apartment with the pale, late-afternoon autumn light streaming in through the windows of the staircase. He doesn’t really think about anything as he climbs the stairs, just lifts one foot after the other to climb the steps, blasting Public Enemy in his earphones.

So, when he walks in through the open front door to Sana’s apartment for the first time in months, and spots guys’ sneakers sprawled messily in the corridor, and hear the sound of voices coming from Elias’ room, he’s completely unprepared for the déjà vu and weird mix of feelings taking up space in his chest in a matter of seconds.

He swallows around the sudden tightness in his throat and quickly trails his eyes over the sneakers on the floor, automatically scanning for Even’s trashed Nikes until it strikes him, that it’s very possible that he got new ones. So, he takes another look at the different pairs of sneakers, trying to decipher which ones, if any, could be Even’s.

“…Why are you staring at the floor? Did you drop something?” Sana says, making him finally look up from the floor.

“Uh, no. Nevermind.” he says, heart still beating hard in his chest, and he quickly hangs up his jacket. 

“…Okayyyy.” Sana says, giving him a disbelieving look before turning on her heel and walking to her room. He trails after, resisting the urge to detour to the door to Elias’ room, and a few moments later, they both settle down at her desk and pop open their laptops, settling on a topic within the field of human biology and then start researching separately.

More than once he fights the urge to ask her about Even; is he here, hanging out in Elias’ room, is he back at Bakka, back in Oslo, is he okay.

Every time he looks up from his screen and tries to gather the courage to ask her, she’s focused on her own screen, and he loses his nerve. So, he dives back into research and tries to focus, fighting the impulse to just get up from his chair and walk down the corridor and knock on Elias’ door just to see if Even is there.

He doesn’t get up, but he does listen for guys’ voices from Elias’ room down the hall. They’re nearly drowned out by the dragging beat of some old Snoop Dogg song though, so it’s impossible to discern them. Still, he half-expects to catch Even’s deep voice any second.

∙

A couple of hours later, he still hasn’t caught Even’s voice, but Sana’s phone goes off with a notification, and she checks it quickly then turns to him with a “…you want a cup of tea or something? It’s almost time for Asr.”

“Sure.” He nods, welcoming a little break while Sana tends to her afternoon prayer.

She nods too and gets up, and he follows her to the kitchen, where she sets a couple of mugs on the kitchen counter and puts on the kettle, setting a little selection of tea in front of him with a “surprise me.” and then retreats to the bathroom.

He knows that there’s some sort of obligatory cleansing ritual before prayers, so he guesses that’s what she goes to do. He’ll probably never fully understand why she bothers with prayers and fasting and going to the mosque and all that; he’s so fucking far from religious himself, but the one time he asked her why a smart girl like herself with a full science elective believed in Islam, she shut him down so hard he didn’t dare talk to her for a couple of days. So, he keeps his mouth shut and respects her choices. _You do you_ and all that.

There’s still music coming from Elias’ room, but in the quiet of the kitchen he sidles through the teabags in the two different boxes and picks out green tea with lemon for the both of them, dumping the two teabags into the mugs, and then leans back against the kitchen counter scrolling his phone while he waits for the water to boil. He doesn’t even notice the music stopping in Elias’ room, just keeps scrolling down some random FC Barcelona thread on Reddit until

“…Yoooo, Isaaaaak!”

The sound of Elias’ voice immediately makes his heart start racing in anticipation before he even drags his eyes up from his phone.

Looking up, he sees Elias, Mikael, Mutta and one more guy he doesn’t remember meeting before, walk into the kitchen in sweatpants and hoodies, gym bags slung across their chests.

No Even, though.

He doesn’t know if he’s massively relieved or ditto disappointed, but at least his heart rate slows back to normal. 

“…Long time no see, man.” Mikael smiles, taking a step forward to greet him with a hand slap.

“Yeah, uh, hey.” He finally smiles back, slapping Mikael’s hand and then Elias’ and Mutta’s. He nods a “hey.” at the last guy who introduces himself as Yousef.

“So, what’s up, man?” Elias smiles, taking out a half-liter bottle of water from the fridge and putting it into his gym bag.

“Uh, not much…” he shrugs in reply, “…just trying to write up a biology report on endocrine disruptors and phospholipid molecules with your sis…” he nods in the direction of Sana’s room.

“Oi.” Mikael smiles, and Mutta frowns. “…Endo- _what_?” Elias just raises a hand at him, “…nah, bro, don’t get him started.”

Isak smiles; it’s cool to see Elias and the guys again, even if it’s a reminder of Even _not being there._

“…So, are you and Sana, uh…” Yousef then asks him, trailing off, and Isak replies with a “…we’re lab partners. At Nissen.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. Sure.” Yousef says, drawing a hand through his dark hair, looking something like relieved.

Oh _, indeed._

Isak quirks a smile at him before looking over at Elias and Mikael with a smirk.  
“…Well, judging by how much you guys struggled to pass physics, I assume you didn’t take elective biology at Bakka?”

Mutta and Yousef both snort a laugh at the jab.

“Uh, _hell_ no, man.” Mikael says with a shudder and Elias supplies a “…Nah. Shit, I’m so glad to be done with school…” He tilts his head, looking at Isak. “…Are you looking forward to graduating next summer, Isak…?” He smirks and then continues, faux-surprised “…oh wait, you don’t graduate for another 1,5 years, right?”

“Ugh, shut the fuck up.” Isak moans, and all three guys snort gleeful laughs, and _okay_ he probably deserved the jab back.

“…Anyway…” Elias then smiles, hoisting his gym bag over his shoulder and waving his hand between Mikael, Mutta and Yousef, “…We’re heading to the gym… You should join sometime, man…”

“I don’t know…” Isak shrugs, “…it’s not really my thing.”

He’s never really been to the gym, kinda dreads the whole locker room situation and the possibility of popping a boner there.

“…No, that much is obvious, bro.” Elias says, eyeing Isak’s skinny biceps with a smirk, and _what the fuck, he so_ didn’t _deserve another jab._

“…You know what, fuck it, maybe I _will_ join you sometime.” He shoots back challengingly, ignoring the possible locker room scenario.

“Cool.” Elias smiles in return. “…I’ll text you.”

Isak nods and then there are hand claps all around, and the guys are out the door before he gets the chance to ask anything about Even. He hears the front door slam behind them and guesses he’ll just have to ask them the next time he sees them. At the gym, or whatever. If he ever manages to drag himself over there. 

Leaning back against the kitchen counter again, he’s about to pull his phone back up, when Sana returns to the kitchen.

“…Was that Elias?” She asks with a nod towards the front door.

“Yeah. And Mikael, Mutta and Yousef.”

She nods and pours boiled water into the two mugs, and Isak takes a second to watch her put the kettle back and dunk the tea bags in the mugs a few times, debating whether to finally ask her or not.

_Fuck it, here goes nothing._

He clears his throat, trying his best to level his voice. To make it sound the most casual as possible.

“Have you, uh, seen Even? Here, I mean? Like, has he been hanging out with Elias and the guys lately?”

She looks straight up at him for a second before replying. “Even? No. I haven’t seen him in forever. Last I heard he dropped out of Bakka and was staying with family in Tromsø… But maybe you know more about that than I do? You tutored him after all.”

“I didn’t tutor him exclusively.” He says defensively, “…I tutored Elias and Mikael, too.”

“Right.” She says, dunking the tea bags into the mugs again. “…So, didn’t Elias or Mikael tell you about what happened?”

“Uh, no. Not really.” He shrugs. “…I mean, I saw he posted some weird stuff on his Insta and Facebook profiles, but…”

_Weird stuff about me._

“…Then you definitely know more than I do.” She says. “…I think Elias and the guys miss him, though.”

He nods back silently, careful not to let emotion show on his face. As far as she’s concerned, Even is just a guy he tutored a few times. A random acquaintance.

“I get that.” He says as neutrally as he can. “…Is he, uh, still in Tromsø, or?”

“I don’t know. I can ask Elias about him, if-“

“Uh, no, that’s okay.” He says quickly.

“Okay.” She says and dumps the teabags in the garbage before grabbing both mugs, wordlessly communicating that their break is over.

He follows her back to her room and they continue working on the biology report for the next hours in the newfound silence of the apartment.

∙

A few days later, on Friday, late in the afternoon, he gets a message from Elias.

* * *

**Elias Bakkoush**

17:43

Yo Isak

Me and the guys are hitting the gym at Bislett in 30 mins. Wanna join?

Why the fuck would you go to the gym on a Friday??

Gotta do something man

Quit drinking bc my parents found out and gave me shit.

Lol ok.

I can’t tho, I have plans with your sister.

Why the fuck would you study on a Friday??

We’re not studying

Ewwww are you…like hooking up?

Cuz in that case I do NOT want to know.

Sana is my sis, man

Haha no, not hooking up.

Just some Nissen revue shit, your sis forced me into

Oi. Sorry.

Yeah…

But um maybe next time. The gym, I mean.

Sure, you’re welcome to join

👍

* * *

He slides his phone into his pocket and leans his head back in the tram seat, silently cursing Sana for making him come to Nissen on a Friday night for _kosegruppe_. He’d actually rather sweat it out in a gym then sit through a _kosegruppe_ meeting, but he really needs his weed back. 

∙

The kosegruppe meeting is exactly as bad as he feared; between Sana, Vilde and Eva, Vilde is clearly the leader and mastermind behind the “love exercise”, that has Isak standing in a circle in the middle of the room, holding hands with the shorthaired girl, he met at Eva’s party last weekend – Emma - and some random girl, whose name he has already forgotten. He tried bailing when Vilde started talking about a _love exercise_ , but Sana gave him a stern eyebrow raise, and he rolled his eyes in return but trudged down the stairs to join the circle in the middle of the room.

It's weird chants, songs and breathing exercises mostly, and then they are split into pairs, and he ends up with Emma to do some _trust exercises_.

“…Okay, so I just lean back, and then you catch me, right?” Emma smiles, looking back at him over her shoulder, and he nods half-heartedly. “Yes.”

She leans back with a giggle, and he catches her, his hands ending up somewhere between her breasts and her waist.

“Nice catch.” She smiles at him, and he sends her a nod back. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I won’t try to catch you, though. You’re so much taller and stronger than me.” She smiles flirtingly, and he nods back a “makes sense.”, hoping that they can be done with all these fucking exercises soon.

Finally, Vilde calls out an “okay, you can all sit down again. Thank you for playing.” And they both sit down with Emma plopping down next to him.

“…Next up, you’re going to be split into pairs for the cooking-teams; you’re going to be cooking for the revue teams, so find a partner who you can cook with.” Vilde says excitedly, and Emma turns her face slightly to look at him. “Do you want to partner up for the cooking team? I don’t really know anyone here. Except for you of course and Maria, but she’s teaming up with Lea.”

“Uh, sure. Okay.” He says, already thinking of ways to get out of it. He can’t cook for shit and has absolutely zero interest in cooking for kosegruppe and the other revue teams. He’s just there to get his weed back, and the moment Sana gives it to him, he’s outta there.

“Cool.” She says back with a smile and then pulls up her phone. “I think we should exchange numbers and add each other on Face. So we can plan for when we’re going to meet up and cook.”

He looks at her for a second, before shaking himself out of it giving her his phone number and his full name, so she can add him on Facebook.

∙

They first meet up a couple of weeks later.

Sana kept her word and gave him his weed back after the first kosegruppe meeting, but Emma is persistent about meeting up, not even taking the hint when he blew her off the first time they were supposed to meet. And besides, the boys are starting to pick up on her interest in him, and then he kinda _has to_ play the part. Has to act interested in her. After all, he did initially tell them that he thought she was hot. And who would turn down a hot first-year? Nobody.

So, he agrees to meet up with her at her place, and they make a batch of Christmas cookies even though it’s only the tenth of November, and when they’re done he helps her clean up the kitchen and they pack up all the cookies in various containers and bags to take to Vilde for the next kosegruppe meeting.

When she smilingly hands him his own plastic bag of cookies, he accepts it thinking he can always pass them on to Eskild, who seems to eat just about anything.

“Takk.” He says, pulling on his hoodie and jacket and as he’s about to leave with a “see you in school tomorrow”, she leans in and starts kissing him.

He kisses her back because he can.

When he finally pulls back, she’s smiling sweetly at him telling him “you taste like vanilla.”

A few days later, she becomes his girlfriend. 

∙

∙

December seems to be a new low and having a girlfriend does nothing to help his miserable situation. If anything, it makes it worse.

The guys are still raving about him _bagging one of the hottest chicks at school_ , and he finds himself lying to them all the time about how great the sex is, when really, he and Emma haven’t had sex yet (thank God).

He’s just so. Stressed. Studying for midterms is wearing him thin, he’s having trouble sleeping, Emma wants to hang out all the fucking time, and it’s cold and dark and he desperately needs a new pair of winter boots, but moneywise he’s barely scraping by as it is.

He’s sick of it, all of it, but at least there’s a solution to the winter boots thing. That solution is called _Dad_ , but he avoids making the call like the plague. Right up until he catches a cold from walking home in the snow in leaky boots and he proceeds to spend two days in bed with a fever.

When he finally calls Terje, he’s more than happy to help, and Isak almost regrets not calling him sooner. But then:

“I bought tickets for your mom and me for the Christmas concert in Sagene church next week. Do you want to join us?”

…And Isak suddenly remembers why he doesn’t call his dad unless it’s a (semi-) emergency.

“Uh...” He says back dumbly, trying to think up an excuse. He’s so not going to church with his parents. Or going to church _period_.

“…You were baptized in that church, you know.” His father says, like that’s going to convince him, when really it has the exact opposite effect.

“Um, I can’t, I have mid-terms, so…” he finally says.

“Okay.” His father replies, sounding somewhat disappointed. Then he continues “…but I presume you’re joining us Christmas eve at the house. Right?” and Isak is silent on the line, for a moment considering which is worse; spending Christmas eve alone or in _that house_ with his parents.

“Um, I don’t know, I might have plans…with my girlfriend.” He answers lamely, and then it’s his father’s turn to fall quiet on the line.

Finally, his father speaks up again.

“Okay. Well, just let me know, son.”

“Yes, I will.” He says back and then they say their goodbyes, and it’s barely a minute after Isak has ended the call, that he gets a vipps notification.

_You have received 3000 kroner from Terje Valtersen: “Merry Christmas Isak.”_

The guilt makes him burrow deeper into his duvet, wishing for December to fucking end already.

It doesn’t though, in fact it seems practically never-ending, and a couple of days later, when Emma asks him if he wants to go shopping for Christmas presents together, his first thought is _hell no_ , because he’s so over December.

He has the worst track record with December, and there’s nothing like Christmas shopping and Christmas markets filled with happy people perusing to the sound of _Last Christmas_ , or some other cheesy Christmas music to make you think about your dysfunctional fucking family, and how you’ll probably end up alone Christmas eve. But Emma doesn’t know that, doesn’t need to know that, and he guesses Christmas shopping is exactly the kinda shit you do with your girlfriend. The kinda shit Eva and Jonas used to do together. So, he agrees to meet her at Karl Johan on Saturday 17 December.

∙

When the day of their Christmas shopping date arrives, he sincerely considers cancelling with the excuse of being sick. But he drags himself out instead, zoning out on the way to Karl Johan, the tram busy with people, but at least it’s warm. When he steps out of the tram, he shudders with cold, even though he’s wearing a winter jacket, his new winter boots, a beanie and a large dark blue wool scarf pulled up to cover his nose and mouth. It’s cold as fuck, even snowing a bit, and he deeply regrets agreeing to meet her, when he could be home watching Netflix in his room.

Popping his hands into his pockets, he continues trudging towards the Freia sign where they agreed to meet, but he doesn’t see her until he practically walks into her. 

“Halla!”

She looks happy and a little flushed from the cold, the Christmas lights of the main street reflecting in her eyes.

“Halla.” He says back, lowering his scarf to place a light kiss on her lips, when she raises up slightly, asking for one. 

She smiles back at him and pulls up his hand from his pocket clasping it in her own and then they start walking.

“…Do you wanna check out the Christmas market at Spikersuppa?” she suggests, looking so enthusiastic that he goes along with a “sure.”

“Cool.” She smiles, then ”…uh, I mean, just if you want to, we can do something else if-“

“No, it’s fine.” He says because it’s not like he has a better idea anyway.

So, they make their way there, and Isak hates it right off the bat; all the lights and fucking Christmas music and happy families and couples. It’s exactly what he has tried to avoid for years.

Emma seems to love it though; she wanders around the tiny stalls, dragging him with her, and he half-heartedly goes along even though he has zero interest in crafts, Christmas decorations, gløgg or Christmas cookies. Magnus called him “grinch” a couple of days ago after he’d dragged his ugly Christmas sweater, and he guesses Mags was right. He really doesn’t like Christmas.

Emma finally lets go of his hand as she finds a particularly interesting stall selling knitwear, and he pulls up his phone, scrolling mindlessly for a few seconds while Emma looks around, trying on knitted mittens.

“…Hey, what about these?” she says, and he looks up, watching her waving her mitten-clad hands at him.

“Uh, they’re nice, I guess.” He says, and she looks back down at the mittens. “…Yeah, I think so, too. And they’re really soft, too. Here, feel.” She grabs his hand again, and he nods half-heartedly. She leans in and pecks him on the lips before smiling “…okay. I’m gonna buy them.”

“Okay.” He says as she pulls off the mittens and walks towards the register and he takes a second to look out over the ice rink spread out in front of him and the market stalls lining the rink.

He spots him in an instant. Makes him out from across the rink and through the crowd immediately even though it’s dark and it has been more than six months since he last saw him.

Even.

At a stall directly opposite himself, standing tall over almost everyone else, in a burgundy beanie and a scarf almost as big as his own. Staring right back at him.

Isak’s throat goes so dry he’s having difficulties swallowing, and his heart rate immediately picks up like preparing for battle.

_What the fuck._

He blinks once, and when he opens his eyes again, there’s a blonde girl holding onto Even’s arm, and as she turns her face slightly and looks up at Even, he can tell that it’s Sonja.

Of course.

He stares for a few moments more, eyes locked onto Even’s across the 30-meter distance across the ice rink, and then Emma returns.

“…bought the mittens. Do you want to go ice skating?”

He doesn’t really hear her at first; her voice sounding muffled to his ears, and it takes him a couple of seconds to register that she’s there, slipping her hand into his. Then it takes him a couple of additional beats to drag his eyes off Even and look at her instead.

“…Hmm?” he asks dumbly when he has finally focused back on her, and she smiles and repeats her question. “Wanna skate? At the rink?” She nods in the direction of the ice rink, and he’s hit with instant panic at the thought of coming face-to-face with Even.

“Um, no thanks. I broke my arm in March and I’m not so keen on breaking it again.” He says quickly, hoping the panic-stricken look on his face backs up his story.

“…Let’s get coffee instead?” he then tries, praying to a non-existent God that she agrees, so he doesn’t have to spend a moment longer at the market.

“…Okay.” She giggles. “…here?”

“Uh no, let’s find a KB or something.” He replies, already pulling lightly on her mitten-clad hand.

“Okay, sure.” She says with a smiley nod and he steers her away, heading for the exit.

As they make their way towards the exit, he can’t resist casting one last look over his shoulder to look at Even. He’s ducking his head to peck Sonja on the lips, smiling at her, and Isak’s breath catches uncomfortably in his chest, so he averts his eyes and turns back to Emma, focusing on getting the fuck out of the market.

∙

They grab coffee at a nearby KB, and Isak mechanically pays for them both then takes a seat across from Emma, but the truth is, that he can barely function; his heart rate is still through the roof, and he‘s hella paranoid. Oslo feels like such a small town sometimes, and with his fucking luck, it seems completely likely that Even and Sonja could stop by this exact KB for coffee anytime.

He honestly doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it, if he was confronted with Even up-close, so, he’s on guard with his heart in his throat, constantly checking the large glass façade for any signs of him.

Thankfully, Emma doesn’t really seem to notice how incredibly jittery he is; she just sips her latte and smilingly tells him about the Christmas presents she’s planning on getting for her family and friends. 

Twenty minutes later Isak leaves half a cup of luke-warm coffee on the table, as they both stand up to put on their winter coats and scarves.

“…wanna go to Paleet and buy presents?” Emma asks him as she buttons her coat and Isak nods a quick “sure.”

They make their way there in a few minutes and as they step into the glass doors to the upscale mall, it hits Isak that he doesn’t really have anyone to buy presents for. He doesn’t even know where he’s going to be spending Christmas. Still hasn’t made up his mind about his dad’s offer to spend Christmas together in the old house. With his mom.

Emma is planning on getting a bunch of presents though, so he tags along through the different stores and watches her buy fancy pots and pans for her parents, a book for the brother he didn’t even know she had, and finally they hit a perfume and makeup store for gifts for her friends.

“…I’m thinking of getting Lea some MAC stuff, because she loves that, and-“

He quickly loses interest as Emma talks about makeup, so he replies with a half-hearted “mmm.” and then jerks his head towards the men’s perfume department.

“…I’m just gonna look over here for, um, something for Jonas.” He lies.

“Okay” she nods, “…I’ll find you.”

He nods back and strolls over to the endless racks of colognes, absentmindedly looking at the different glass bottles. It’s not like he has any interest in perfume, or has any intention of buying something for Jonas, but he welcomes the break from Emma, and all the talk about presents and her Christmas plans, and honestly he’s still kinda frazzled after seeing Even.

He walks aimlessly along the shelves until one of the employees starts eyeing him, and then he picks up a couple of bottles and sniffs them, making it look like he’s actually browsing, so she doesn’t catch on to the fact that he’s just passing time loitering. 

They’re both nice, smell a bit like fresh laundry. Definitely better than Emma’s perfume or the one Sara used to wear.

He lets his hand trail along the shelf before picking up another bottle. It’s a clean, opaque bottle and he unscrews the cap and then brings it to his nose to smell it.

As soon as the scent hits his nostrils, he’s having instant flashbacks to tutoring sessions at Elias’ place, parties, walking around in botanical garden. That one late night in Elias’ bathroom.

His body reacts immediately to the scent and the memories, and there’s no doubt in his mind; it’s Even’s cologne. He still remembers his scent; the heady mix of perfume and a hint of sweat, cigarettes and weed. And something else, which he can only guess was Even’s own scent.

He takes another whiff at the bottle, inhaling deeply to chase the scent.

“…Is it good?”

Emma.

“Um. Yeah. Yes.” He says, clearing his throat.

_It’s fucking amazing._

“…I’m, uh, thinking of buying it for Jonas. For Christmas.”

More lies.

“Oh, cool.” She smiles. “…Can I smell it?” 

He hands over the bottle to her, and she brings it to her nose.

“Yeah, it is good. You should buy it, I’m sure he’d like it.”

Isak nods and a minute later he’s swiping his credit card at the register to buy Even’s cologne, even getting it giftwrapped _for Jonas_.

 _What the_ fuck _._

∙

∙

∙

He doesn’t make up his mind about Christmas until the 23rd, where he texts his dad that he’ll join them for Christmas dinner the next day. The thought of sitting alone on Christmas eve is too depressing after all, and this way he at least gets a very filling meal out of it.

The next day, on Christmas eve, he rides his bike over to his old house for Christmas, and his dad greets him in an apron, as he rings the doorbell.

“Isak, hi!” his dad says, drawing him into an awkward hug. “…you didn’t have to ring the bell, don’t you have a key?”

“Uh, no don’t think so.” Isak says back curtly and takes off his winter jacket, boots and scarf. He _does_ still have a key, but it’s not his home anymore, so.

He hangs up his jacket and steps inside, greeting his mom with a “merry Christmas, mamma.”, and then they sit down to eat.

Dinner smells nice. Traditional pork roast, potatoes and gravy. It makes him think of the Christmases back when he was a kid.

Predictably though, dinner turns out to be an awkward affair with his parents asking him endless questions about his new living arrangements, which aren’t even that new anymore. Then they talk a bit about his mid-terms, and when he tells them that he aced his chemistry and physics mid-terms, they both look proud. So at least there is that.

“…Do you know what you want to study after school?” his dad asks him around a forkful of pork roast, and Isak shakes his head slightly.

“No, not yet.”

“You’re going to attend University of Oslo, right?” his dad then says like it’s a universal truth, and it makes Isak obstinate.

“Dunno. Maybe I’ll go to NTNU.”

“Trondheim?”

“Yeah, why not.” he shrugs, bringing another forkful of pork roast and potatoes to his mouth.

He has never considered it before for real, but the thought of leaving his parents and Oslo behind… it’s tempting. 

Perhaps he could finally stop pretending to be someone he’s not.

After dinner and rice porridge for dessert, it’s time to open the few presents under the Christmas tree. Being _the kid_ , Isak gets to open his first, and he unpacks the one from his parents first.

It’s a new iPhone; the old one was starting to crash, especially in the cold, and he may have bitched about it to his dad.

He thanks both of them, and for a second regrets not getting them anything but the bag of cookies he baked with Emma and a cheap bottle of wine. But even if he’d had the money, he wouldn’t know what to get either of them.

Next, he unpacks the gift from Emma.

It’s a button-up shirt. Dark blue. It’s nice. 

“Who was that from?” His father smiles, looking at the button-up.

“Uh, my girlfriend. Emma.”

“Right.” His dad smiles even wider, “…you mentioned on the phone-“

“Yeah.”

“Well, that was nice of her.” His dad says, nodding at the shirt.

“Yeah. It was.” He says back, thinking about the random beauty giftpack he got for her in a bout of last moment panic. He didn’t realize you were supposed to get your girlfriend of one month Christmas presents.

He folds the button-up and puts it back in the fancy-looking giftbag, and then he leans back, grabbing a clementine from the bowl on the coffee table.

His mother stays completely silent; not a single word or question about _his girlfriend_.

∙

By 21:30, he’s riding his bike home to kollektivet and unlocking the door with a sigh of relief.

The apartment is dark and silent; Linn is celebrating Christmas with her parents in Larvik, and Eskild is at his parents’ too.

Isak takes off his winter jacket and boots and then makes his way to his room, where he plugs in his brand-new iPhone to charge it and hangs the blue button-up from Emma in his closet, tags and all.

He’s just about to plop down on his bed with his laptop, when he spots the still-giftwrapped cologne he bought a couple of days ago sitting on his desk. Picking the little box up in his hand, he thinks about actually gifting it to Jonas, but they’ve never really given each other Christmas presents. Not expensive ones, anyway. Also, the thought of Jonas walking around and smelling like Even – no.

He carefully unwraps the paper and opens the box, pulling up the little opaque bottle and brings it to his nose before he spritzes a bit on his wrist and smells the scent on his skin. It doesn’t smell quite the same on him as it did on Even, but it still makes his body react; fuzzy memories of Even somehow twisting into desperate fantasies in about a millisecond.

He’s hard in his jeans before he’s even set the glass bottle back on his desk, and from he plops down on his bed, shimmies his jeans down his hips and wraps a hand around himself, it’s barely a minute before he’s coming over his pubes and his hand.

His phone beeps after he has wiped his hand and crotch with toilet paper, and his heart is still beating fast in his chest, when he sits up and picks up his phone from the nightstand.

* * *

**Emma**

**22:13**

Merry Christmas. Hope you had a good night.

Did you like your present? <3

* * *

He flops back down on his bed with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the tease! I promise, Even will make a proper re-entry very soon!
> 
> …And merry Christmas everyone <3 Here’s to 2021 treating us all better than 2020 did.


	14. Happy New Year, Isak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: New Year's, gin and juice, a balcony, dress shirts, Jonas being a perfect gentleman and the origins of _Baby Jesus!_
> 
> Also: Alternative title for this chapter: Staring™.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated New Year to y'all!

_Romjula_ , the days between Christmas Eve and New Year’s, turns out to be just what Isak needs – a welcome break from everything; his parents, his friends, his roommates, Emma.

Well, he goes to Jonas’ house on the 27th and they light up and play a few rounds of Call of Duty, but other than that, he spends his time in the quiet of the empty kollektiv. Linn and Eskild are still with their respective families, both somewhere up north, both not returning until New Year’s.

Emma has plans with her family for most of romjula, and the days she hasn’t, Isak tells her that he’s got plans with his. He doesn’t, but Emma doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know anything about him or his family, really. She hasn’t even asked him why he’s moved out at 17, just thinks it’s _so_ _cool_ that he lives in a kollektiv in Løkka. She hasn’t been there yet, Isak doesn’t really want her in his room, isn’t really keen on _letting her in_. And Emma hasn’t pressed, so really, so far it has worked out perfectly.

For the whole week between Christmas and New Year’s Isak is free to hang out alone in the apartment, in soft sweatpants and a hoodie, with the pale-grey December light making everything a little blurry around the edges. The days are short with only about six hours of daylight and a couple of days in, he stops paying attention to whether it’s day or night. He does what he wants when he wants – no alarms on his phone, or Eskild telling him to get up or go to sleep.

He spends hours on the couch in the empty living-room, watching Netflix or gaming, because the tv screen is so much larger than the one in his own room, and the couch is better suited for long hours in front of the screen.

He raids the freezer for Eskild’s and Linn’s supply of Grandis, because he’s too lazy to go the supermarket.

He watches porn with the sound on, because he can.

He takes long showers, because he can.

He spends time trawling Facebook and Instagram for traces of Even, thinking that maybe he has reactivated his accounts or created new ones, but the extensive research returns no results; there‘s still no evidence of Even on social media.

The memory from about two weeks ago; seeing Even at the Christmas market, keeps popping up in his head at odd times, and he almost drives himself crazy trying to figure out if Even is back in Oslo for good, or just visiting for the holidays. On the 29th he, for a split-second, entertains the idea of wrapping himself in layers and winter boots to take a stroll around town, cross the Akerselva river and walk around Bjølsen for the slim chance of running into Even. But then he remembers how Even smilingly kissed Sonja at the Christmas market, and the thought of possibly running into both of them, looking happy, bundled up in wool scarves and to-go coffees in their hands, makes uneasiness settle heavily in the pit of his stomach and he drops the idea immediately.

It was a stupid idea, anyway. Better to stay home and game and watch Narcos. 

∙

The day of New Year’s Eve kinda sneaks up on him, and it’s fine; he’s perfectly content with not having plans, doesn’t really care all that much about New Year’s anyway.

But when Jonas calls him around 5 pm and asks him what he’s doing and if he wants to come with him to Matheo’s house party in Løkka later, he’s in, because why not. He _has_ spent the last week or so huddled up in sweats in his room, so maybe a party will be a nice change of scenery after all. Also, it’s like two streets over, so it won’t even be a hassle to get home later, when he’s drunk and tired. Most convenient New Year’s plans ever.

He tells Jonas “sure, see you later, man.”, and he has barely ended the call before he gets a text from Emma; his quiet hermit days apparently coming to an abrupt end.

It’s a mirror selfie; she’s wearing a tight black dress and fishnet stockings, her lips pouted in a kiss at the camera. Then another text comes through.

* * *

**Emma**

17:04

Hey:)  
What are your plans for tonight?

Hey  
Going to a house party in Løkka with Jonas  
What about you?

I’m going to a party in Løkka too! With Lea and Maria.  
Maybe we can meet up later?

Cool.  
Sure, let’s text later.

* * *

He puts the phone down on his bed, about to strip off his sweatpants and hoodie to hit the shower when he picks up the phone again and opens the text convo.

* * *

**Emma**

Btw, you look really hot in that dress.

* * *

It’s a nice dress, after all. 

∙

After showering he gets dressed in his best jeans and the dark blue button-up, Emma gave him for Christmas; he hasn’t bothered to do laundry since before Christmas and it’s one of the only clean shirts he has left. So, he rips the tags off and shrugs into the brand-new crisp fabric, quickly buttoning it and then runs his fingers through his damp curls, for a moment debating going for a snapback. He drops it though, just fingercombs his hair and lets it airdry.

Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, he buttons his shirt sleeves at the wrists and then heads out of his room to look for Eskild in the living-room.

“Eskild?” he calls out, as he exits his own room. 

No answer. But there’s a Sia song streaming out loud and clear from Eskild’s room, so he walks up to the door and knocks hard.

“Eskiiiild????”

Eskild pops his head out a moment later.

“What?”

“…Do you by any chance have any vodka or something I can bring to a party tonight?”

Eskild takes a look at him and opens the door a little wider, and Isak refrains from lifting an eyebrow at Eskild’s New Year’s outfit; the black latex-y tights and glitter top clinging tightly to his frame. He looks _so_ _gay_.

“…Oh, you’re going to a party after all? You clean up well, Isakyaki.” Eskild says appreciatively, looking at Isak’s dark blue button-up and jeans.

“Yeah, thanks. Uh, you look nice too.” Isak says back dismissively, then quirks an eyebrow at Eskild. “…But um, do you have any vodka, or?”

“Uh…” Eskild thinks for a moment. “…Try the cabinet under the TV, there should be some leftover bottles from the last party…”

“Okay, thanks.” Isak says. “…And uh, happy New Year.”

Eskild smiles back at him. “Happy New Year, Isak.”

Isak nods and leaves Eskild’s door ajar, then heads to the living-room, squatting down in front of the cabinet underneath the TV, and sure enough, there’s a small selection of half-full bottles. He takes a second to look at the labels and then picks out the bottle with the most content. Gordon’s. Looks like he’s drinking gin tonight.

He grabs the bottle and pulls on a sweater, then his winter jacket and a pair of sneakers and calls out a “bye, Eskild. Have a nice party.”

“You too, Isak. Take care.” Eskild yells back from his room and then Isak bounces down the stairs.

Seven minutes later, he greets Jonas with a hand slap and a quick hug outside Matheo’s place a few streets over, and then they make their way up the stairs to the apartment, the whole stairwell filling with loud music, Isak guesses comes from Matheo’s place. 

Sure enough, it does, and when they enter the apartment, it’s already _packed_.

They greet Matheo and a couple of guys from Nissen in the kitchen and then Isak finds a roll of plastic shot glasses and pours up a few shots of the gin he took from the kollektiv to kickstart his buzz. He hands Jonas one of them with a “cheers, bro.”

Jonas takes a quick sniff at the shot glass. “Gin?”

“Yeah…?” Isak shrugs, then quirks an eyebrow, “…are you complaining about free booze, or?”

Jonas snorts a laugh. “No.” then clacks his shot glass against Isak’s with a “cheers, man.”

“Didn’t think so.“ Isak says with a lopsided grin. “…Cheers.”

He tips the glass back, letting the spicy taste of gin burn down his throat. These kind of packed house parties aren’t really his thing, but alcohol and weed helps. It always does.

He’s actually just about to ask Jonas if they can go light up, when he spots Mikael and Elias in the crowd in the living room. Mikael sees him too, his lips quirking into a smile, and a few moments later Mikael and Elias walk up to him and Jonas.

“Mik, hey!” Jonas says happily, as he slaps Mikael’s hand in greeting.

Elias draws Isak into a quick hug, slurring a little.  
“Isakkkkk! Good to see you, bro.”

“Yeah, you too!” Isak smiles, hugging him back. “…I thought you’d quit drinking, man…?” he smirks eyeing the beer in Elias’ hand.

Elias smiles back. “Hah. Yeah, no.”

Then he smirks at Isak. “I see you haven’t started going to the gym, either.”

It makes Isak laugh. “Not yet, no.”

“I’m kidding, you look sharp, man.” Elias then says with a grin. “…But the offer still stands.” He winks, and Isak nods back.  
“I’ll remember that, thanks.” Then he leans over and slaps Mikael’s hand in greeting with Mikael smiling a “happy New Year, Isak.”

After a couple of minutes, they migrate to Matheo’s balcony, and Mikael rolls up, hands working automatically while he talks to Jonas.

“…I didn’t know you guys knew Matheo?” Isak asks Elias before taking a sip of one of the beers he got from Jonas in exchange for free access to the gin.

“Yeah, yeah from Bakka.” Elias says with a smile, and Isak nods in understanding.

“Right. Of course.” 

Mikael lights up then, and they pass the joints between them, all four shivering in their button-ups in the cold late-December air.

“So, what about the rest of the squad? What are they doing tonight?” Isak asks, as he brings the joint to his lips.

“…Well, Yousef is in Turkey visiting family and Adam is in Morocco. But Mutta is joining a little later.” Elias smiles before accepting the joint from Isak and taking a deep inhale.“…Oh, and Even might stop by, too.”

Elias says the words so casually, but they hit Isak like a freight train, his heart immediately speeds up, and he starts to feel hot under the cotton of his button-up.

“Oh?” he almost chokes on the word, voice pitched way up.

“Yeah.” Elias nods happily, “…He called me out of the blue last week. And then stopped by my place to hang out with me and Mik.”

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” Isak nods, trying to act casual but lowkey wishing for Elias to pass him back the joint, so he can calm his nerves a bit. He doesn’t though, so Isak takes a long steadying breath of air instead and asks _The Question_.

“…Is he, um, like, back in Oslo, or?”

“No.” Elias shakes his head slightly. ”…Just for the holidays. He’s flying back to Tromsø in a couple of days.”

“Okay.” Isak says with an awkward nod, hating the way his voice still sounds kinda shrill.

“… But hey, looks like you can talk to him yourself, man.” Elias then says with a smile and a nod towards the glass balcony door, and when [Isak follows his line of sight and looks inside the living-room](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/639233055082610688), there is Even. In black jeans and a white dress shirt, top button undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing his long lean forearms, and _okay shit,_ Isak never knew he had a thing for forearms, but apparently he does. Big time.

Even’s hair is down and longer than the last time he saw him, curling softly below his ears, and Isak might very well have a thing for that too.

Even is smiling, greeting Matheo and a couple of other guys with hand slaps, and then leaning down to hug a short brunette girl.

Isak’s throat goes so dry, he has to swallow a few times to get it to work again. He then vaguely registers Elias handing the joint back to him and Elias leaning forward, opening the balcony door slightly and yelling a “yo, Ev!” inside the living room.

Even looks up and Isak can’t tear his eyes away, so he catches the surprise on Even’s face; his eyes widening as he sees him too. It’s only a split-second though, barely there before he breaks into a smile and crosses the living room to get to the balcony.

He steps out with a “hey!”, hugs Elias and then Mikael before sliding the glass door shut behind him.

“Good to see you, bro.” Elias smiles. “…I’m glad you decided to come party with us! ...And look who I found...” he gestures to Isak and Jonas with a smile.

“Yeah, me too.” Even replies, then returns Jonas’ hand slap with an easy smile and a “hey.” before finally turning to Isak. Isak notices how he puts his hands in the tight pockets of his jeans, bouncing slightly on his feet before saying a “hey Isak.”

It sounds a little unsure, but nothing like how Isak’s own voice went up several octaves about a minute ago, when Elias told him that Even might be joining the party.

In fact, he still doesn’t entirely trust his voice, so he greets Even with a short “hei” before raising the joint to his lips again. He’s so fucking unprepared for this.

The awkwardness must come off him in waves, because there’s an actual moment of silence, and he suddenly wishes himself back inside the living-room hiding in the anonymity of the crowd. He feels certain that his jig is finally up, that Elias, Mikael and Jonas can see right through his façade; can see it shattering by Even’s presence.

They don’t say anything though, just start small talking among themselves and it’s a small blessing, even if Even keeps his eyes on him, making it difficult to breathe.

Isak really has no idea how to act around him; doesn’t know what Even thinks about him, if Even has thought about him at all for these past months, if he even remembers what happened between them.

For his own part, he remembers everything. Though sometimes he’d really rather he didn’t. 

He clears his throat lamely to snap out it, and then Even nods at the joint between his fingers. “Can I have a hit?”

When he looks up, Even is smiling at him.

“Uh…” he stutters looking at Even, then manages a “…uh, yeah, sure.”, passing the sad remains of the joint to Even. The simple touch of their fingers brushing sends a little shiver down his spine, and he suddenly feels the cold 2 degrees Celsius air permeating the thin cotton of his shirt. 

“Thanks.” Even says quietly before bringing the joint to his mouth, and Isak’s eyes are automatically drawn to the motion of it, the tip of Even’s thumb and index finger pinching the blunt, his lips pursing around the filter.

The memory of kissing those lips flashes for a second before he shakes himself out of it.

“…Um, I heard you’ve been staying in Tromsø?” he says just to say something.

“Yeah.” Even says on an inhale, then blows out the smoke, angling his face away from Isak and the others. “…Yeah, I’m retaking my third year at Kongsbakken vgs in Tromsø.”

“Cool.” Isak nods.

“Yeah.” Even says back, but he’s looking out at the horizon, his jaw tight.

The following silence is awkward, and Isak can’t for the life of him get his brain to work sufficiently for small talk.

Fortunately, Mikael’s voice soon cuts in loud and clear over Elias’ and Jonas’ conversation in the background:

“…Yo, it’s cold as _balls_ out here, wanna step inside?”

“Yes.” Isak nods, because yeah, it _is_ cold as fuck. Awkward as fuck too.

Even nods too, stubbing out the roach in a makeshift ashtray, and pulls open the balcony door, holding it open for Isak and the others.

Inside, they split ways naturally, the brunette girl from before drags Even and Mikael off for some loud party game, and Isak hangs out with Jonas and Matheo and some chicks from Nissen. But even in the midst of the crowded party, Isak can’t stop looking at Even; in spite of it being almost nine months since he last saw him, not counting the Christmas market a couple of weeks ago, he still seeks him out intuitively. Can’t take his eyes off him really, it’s like a magnetic effect or some shit. Only it’s not, because Isak knows the physics of magnetism, and he’s pretty sure the principles don’t really apply to humans. Still, his eyes are drawn to Even, and he leans back and sips from his plastic cup of gin and juice and watches Even from across the room; how he smiles as he talks with his friends. Sips from a bottle of beer. Twirls the brunette girl around on the impromptu dancefloor in the middle of the living-room.

More than once, Even looks up and back at him, and each time Isak drops his gaze about a millisecond too late, cheeks flushing at being caught staring. Still, it doesn’t make him stop following Even with his eyes. That faux-magnetism or whatever.

Sonja shows up around 11 pm with a couple of girlfriends, and Isak looks on as Even kisses her in greeting; sees him close his eyes and duck his head slightly to kiss her even though she’s wearing 4-inch heels.

For a fleeting moment Isak wonders, if Even had to duck his face like that, that one time they kissed back in the spring. He’s pretty sure he has grown about an inch since, but he still must’ve been a lot taller than Sonja back then, even when she’s wearing stilettos. 

It takes Jonas pushing a shot glass of tequila into his hand and sliding his arm around his shoulders, for him to finally tear his eyes and thoughts away from Even.

“’M glad you came tonight, bro.” Jonas says a little drunkenly, and Isak nods back a “yeah, me too. Thanks for the invite, man.”

“De nada.” Jonas smiles, then touches his shot glass to Isak and they both tip back their tequila shots, both grimacing at the taste.

∙

Just before midnight, Isak mixes himself a refill of gin and juice and slinks out to the balcony for a breather before the big countdown. It’s blissfully empty out; everybody but him still inside, pouring up drinks and shots and getting ready for midnight.

Bracing his hands on the cold handrail of the balcony he takes a deep breath of cold air, then purses his lips to blow out the white mist of air and watch it disappear immediately. 

He doesn’t hear the slide of the balcony door for the heavy bass coming from inside, but he does feel the warm hand on his shoulder. It makes him automatically half-turn and meet Even’s eyes.

“Hey.” Even smiles, and it’s intimate and warm, and Isak’s heart starts beating faster again.

“Hey.” He replies, turning his face to look out over the scattered fireworks dotting the sky. Looking at Even from across the room is one thing, but meeting his eyes up close is… Well, looking out at the fireworks is a lot less intense.

“Gin and juice again?” Even says, and Isak can hear the smile in his voice. So, he turns his face slightly to look at Even and sees him nodding at the plastic cup in his hand.  
“Hmm?” Isak frowns in confusion for a second, before he too remembers a party long ago. 

“..Oh. Yeah.” He nods. “…Cuz I’m just so _hood_ , y’know.” He jokes, echoing Even’s words from all those months ago.

Even nods, pursing his lips in a smile. “You’re missing the snapback, though. Thought it was your signature look.”

It makes Isak scoff, but smile. “ _My signature look_ … nei.”

“Okay.” Even smiles back, his eyes trailing over Isak’s face and his curls for a second, and Isak looks back out at the fireworks.

A few moments of silence pass between them, before Even speaks up. 

“You okay?”

Isak keeps his eyes on the fireworks.

_No._

“Yeah, sure. Just…” he coughs, “…just not a big fan of huge house parties. Or New Year’s for that matter.”

Even nods, then leans forward placing his hands next to Isak’s on the handrail as he looks out at the horizon too.

“…I know what you mean.”

There’s another moment of silence between them, and Isak has _questions_ but his mind short-circuits with the fact that there’s barely two inches between them, their shoulders _almost_ touching and he can feel the heat coming off Even’s body; the scent of his cologne much more intoxicating than the bottled version sitting on his desk at home. It makes his heart race in his chest, his body hum with want.

He swallows drily and finally settles for asking “…are _you_ okay?”, hoping Even understands what he’s really asking.

Even doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and the silence makes Isak half-turn to look at him.

He’s unprepared for how the sight of Even’s face illuminated by the red, green and gold of the fireworks takes his breath away. He looks so stunningly beautiful, it’s almost a physical blow to the gut.

“I don’t know.” Even finally says, eyes fixed on the colorful explosions on the sky in front of them, and it’s honest and raw, and Isak can do nothing but nod back weakly, finally dragging his eyes off Even’s profile.

They spend a few more moments in the relative silence of the balcony, both looking out at the fireworks going off in the distance, Isak’s heart like a jackhammer in his chest.

Then starts the loud countdown from inside the apartment, and Isak jerks his head at the balcony door. “Uh, we should, um, probably, uh-“

“Yeah.” Even agrees lowly, and they make it back into the crowd of the living room to the sound of the collective “3-2-1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The room erupts in gold confetti, champagne bottles popping, singing and general cheering, and Even leans in close and says an almost inaudible “happy New Year, Isak.” before he leaves him with a full glass of champagne and walks across the room towards Sonja.

And Isak can’t stop himself from watching them kiss; Sonja raising up on her tip-toes and Even closing his eyes as their lips meet, and even though Isak by far prefers beer or liquor or even red wine over champagne, he downs his glass in a few gulps and even accepts Matheo sloppily refilling his glass.

After he has downed the second glass of champagne, his phone buzzes in his jeans and he draws it up, seeing a text notification with Emma’s name on his lock screen. He opens it and it’s a slightly misspelled happy New Year’s message complete with a string of party hat emojis. He shoots her back a quick “Happy New Year to you too.”, and she calls him immediately, her name flashing on his screen for a few moments while he makes his way out on the balcony to be able to hear her over the music and noise from the apartment.

“Isak!” her voice comes through, sounding drunk and happy, and he echoes back an “Emma! How’s the party?”

“Ugh, kinda boring actually. It’s just girls…” She giggles. “…How is yours?”

Isak clutches the phone to his ear and peers inside through the glass door; there must be about 40 people dancing and partying in the living-room alone. Sonja and Even included.

“It’s, uh. Packed.”

She giggles again. “Sounds fun.”

“Yeah… I mean, yeah. It is.”

“…I can come by?” she says, and Isak peers inside again seeing Sonja linking her arms behind Even’s neck as they dance to a [remix of the Sia song](https://youtu.be/MzuDVPKDZg8) Eskild was listening to earlier. Then she smilingly takes off her gold necklace and drapes it around Even’s neck, while he gives her a quick eyebrow raise and a smile. 

“Sure.” Isak manages, as he finally averts his eyes.

“Yeah?” she says happily. “…Is it okay for the host?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Okay. I’ll be over in like 15 minutes or something.” She says happily.

“Cool. See you.” He replies and hangs up, taking a couple of deep breaths of crisp winter air before texting her the address.

 _Fuck it_.

∙

Emma shows up with a friend some twenty minutes later, and she looks good in her tight black dress. Out of the corner of his eye Isak registers Elias, Matheo and some of the other guys at the party look at her, as he draws her into a hug, then closes his eyes while he kisses her neck. She smells nice, kinda flowery and a little boozy, but it doesn’t make his heart race. Not even close.

She draws him in for a real kiss, and he keeps his eyes closed as he kisses her lips.

When she pulls back, he catches Even looking straight at them, before he averts his gaze. 

Emma’s sweet gum-minty breath fans over his lips.

“…It suits you. The shirt. You look hot.” She smooths her palm over his chest, and he drags his eyes off Even and looks down at himself. Right, the button-up. The Christmas present from Emma.

“Thanks.” He says, schooling his features into a smile. “…Pretty cool present.”

She smiles again and draws him in for another kiss, burying one of her hands in the curls in the back of his neck, and he lets her pull on his hair for a couple of moments, imagining she’s _somebody else_.

Her soft moan makes him snap out of it, and he gently pulls free.

“…Uh, you want a drink?”

“Sure.” she nods. “...What’ve you got?”

“Gin. And Jonas has beers…”

“Do you have anything to mix with the gin, or?” she smiles teasingly, and he shrugs with a smirk.

“I can fix you something.”

“Okay.” She nods, smiling happily, and he smiles back an “okay. I’ll be right back.”

He goes to the kitchen and finds a plastic cup, mixes a gin and juice for Emma and a refill for himself. Then he rejoins Emma in the living-room, handing her the plastic cup with a “cheers.”

“Cheers.” She says clacking her cup against his and brings it closer to her lips. She takes a tentative sip then wrinkles her nose at the plastic cup. “That’s…Disgusting. What is it? Gin and orange juice?”

“Disgusting?? _What_?” He frowns faux-offended, then raises his eyebrows. “It’s _hood_. Snoop Dogg drinks it, you know.”

“Huh?” she says with a confused smile, and he starts rapping, “ _rollin’ down the street smokin’ indo, sippin’ on gin and juice…_ ”

Her lips split into a wide smile, but it’s not one of recognition.

“No?” he asks, grimacing when she shakes her head.

“…You prefer Justin Bieber, or?” he then jabs with a smirk, and she cheekily smiles back an “I do, actually, yeah.”

“Oi.” He says, pulling a face, and she playfully swats his arm. 

He’s about to drag her for liking Bieber, when Even and Sonja casually walk up to them, and Even smilingly introduces himself, stretching his hand out to Emma.

“Hey, I’m Even. Isak’s friend. I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Uh, no.” She smiles up at Even. “Emma. Isak’s girlfriend.”

“Sonja.” Sonja introduces herself and Emma smilingly shakes her hand, too.

“…Nice to meet you.” Sonja says, “…And by the way, I love your dress.”

It makes Emma light up in a bright smile. “Thank you so much! I wasn’t sure if-…”

Isak zones out as Emma and Sonja talk. They clearly hit it off, giggling and talking about clothes or whatever, but all Isak really sees is Even; [he has opened the top buttons of his dress shirt, probably because it’s hot as hell in the apartment, and the gold chain Sonja hung around his neck is resting against his bare chest. His hair falls messily down his neck looking soft, so soft. ](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/639233080321818624)

Isak is growing more flustered by the second, so he takes a long sip of his drink, silently wishing for either Even, or Emma and Sonja to leave. This weird foursome, doubledatey dynamic is messing with his mind.

Standing there with his girlfriend pretending everything is cool, while Even looks like _that_ , is messing with his mind.

Finally, Even leans in slightly and jerks his head at the balcony.

“Wanna go for a smoke? It’s so fucking hot in here.”

Isak nods back so quickly, he almost succeeds in giving himself whiplash, and Even quirks a quick smile at him before ducking his face and telling Sonja he’ll be right back.

“Are you going to smoke? Even…” Sonja says, and it sounds both worried and kinda judgmental, and Isak doesn’t miss the way it makes Even clench his jaw, or the pointed look, he sends her.

“It's just a cigarette, Son.” He says curtly. “…I’ll be fine.”

Sonja takes a long look at him, then nods and turns back to her conversation with Emma, and Isak tries to catch up with Even’s quick strides, heading towards the balcony.

Even slides the glass door to the balcony open for him and they both step out, but this time, the balcony is filled with people looking for a break from the hot and loud party. They squeeze into a tight spot by the railing, but they have to stand close, barely a foot separating their chests. If Isak were to lean forward just a little bit, their chests would be touching. He doesn’t though, stands up straight instead, and tries not to stare at Even’s collarbones showing where his shirt is unbuttoned. He takes a moment trying to busy himself with sussing out their height difference, while Even pats down his own pockets for his cigarettes.

_Just think about numbers, Isak._

It’s not a whole lot, the height difference, but standing close like this it’s clear that he has to tilt his head up a tiny bit to look Even in the eyes. So, three inches maybe.

“What?” Even finally asks with a smile and a slight raise of his eyebrows, and Isak shakes his head lightly.

 _Just trying to figure out if you’d have to duck your head to kiss_ me _._

“Nothing.”

Even gives him another eyebrow raise like _really_? but doesn’t press further, just draws up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jeans pocket and offers the pack to Isak, who pulls out a cigarette and closes his lips around it. Even smiles and sticks one between his own lips, then flicks the lighter on, lighting first Isak’s and then his own cigarette. 

“So…” he says, pursing his lips to blow out the smoke.

“So.” Isak says back and takes a deep inhale of the cigarette to focus on something other than Even’s lips pursed in an _o_ and the scent of his cologne wafting off his warm skin underneath the semi-open dress shirt, that’s making him a little dizzy with how much he wants to touch.

“…Emma.” Even then says simply, taking another drag of the cigarette, and it’s like a cold bucket of water. 

“Yes.” Isak says back simply, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“How long have you guys, um-“ Even trails off.

“…Been together? About a month, I guess.”

Even nods and there’s a moment of silence between them.

“You and Sonja…” Isak then says after taking a deep inhale, letting the taste of smoke and tobacco burn in his throat.  
“…Do you guys live together in Tromsø, or?”

“No.” Even says simply. “Sonja’s still here in Oslo.”

“Okay.” Isak nods, trying to act cool despite the awkwardness of the conversation. He really doesn’t want to talk about their _girlfriends_ , but, well. Even started it.

“So, you guys do the whole, uh-“ he coughs, “…the whole long-distance thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, cool.” Isak nods. “…And how is that, um, working out for you?” he almost quirks a little smile at himself, because _wow, really, Isak_.

Even lifts his eyebrows slightly, lips pulling into the tiniest incredulous smile and Isak can’t stop himself from smiling back self-consciously. Who the fuck even asks that.

“Honestly?” Even then says, taking another drag of his cigarette. “...I don’t know.”

“No?” Isak says, trying to level his voice, so the hopefulness doesn’t shine through.

“No.” Even says. “I, uh...” he drops his gaze and rolls in his lip like searching for the right words. “…I probably haven’t been a very good boyfriend for a while.” He looks back up then, catches Isak’s eyes, and the intensity of his gaze makes Isak swallow thickly, makes his body hum with want again.

“Oh.” He says back and it’s quiet and low, because he doesn’t trust his own words anymore, too afraid to ask Even _why_. Too afraid of the answer.

Even doesn’t elaborate either, just holds his gaze for a while until Isak drops his eyes to the ground, his heart feeling like it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest.

The silence between them drags out, until Even closes his lips around his cigarette a last time and then stubs it out.

“…But um…” his lips pull into a half-smile, “...She seems nice. Emma.”

Isak finally looks up, swallowing a few times before replying.

“Uh. Yeah. She is.”

Even nods and then jerks his head at the glass door.

“We should- “

“Yes.” Isak says quickly, stubs out his cigarette too, and they make their way back inside, rejoining Sonja and Emma, who are still talking.

Emma smiles up at him as he comes up next to her, and she grabs his hand and slots their fingers together, her hand almost uncomfortably warm against his icy cold fingertips.

He doesn’t dare look at Even for the rest of the night.

∙

By 2 am, Emma is drunk, staggeringly so, telling him an “I don’t, uh, feel so good” from where she’s sitting in a couch, glued to his side.

Isak takes a look at her pale face and nods a quick “okay. Let’s get out of here then.”

On the way out he taps Jonas on the shoulder, telling him that they’re calling it a night.

Jonas pauses briefly from where he’s leaning against the wall making out with Emma’s friend Lea.

“Is she staying with you or?” he chinpoints at Emma. “…If not, you gotta make sure she gets home okay. She looks like she can barely stand, man.”

Isak smiles back at Jonas. The perfect gentleman even when drunk.

“Yeah, she's staying over at mine.” he says back.

He may not really want her in his room, in his bed, but she’s way too drunk to go home by herself.

Jonas nods back an “Okay. Good. See you, Issy” and then he resumes making out with Lea, throwing Isak a peace sign over Lea’s shoulder, when Isak smiles a “See you, bro. Happy New Year.”

Isak then grabs Emma’s- and his own jacket and her hand, and pulls her along with him. He catches Even’s eyes across the room one last time before he leads Emma to the door and down the stairs to the street.

They’ve only just made it out the entrance door before Emma doubles over and pukes on the sidewalk.

“It’s okay. You’ll feel better.” Isak tries comforting her half-heartedly with a hand on her back, but it just makes her throw up more.

He has to look away; he’s not exactly sober himself, and the sight of her puking all over the pavement is dangerously close to making him queasy too. He rubs her back absentmindedly for a moment while looking away, then he pulls up his phone and shoots a quick text in the kollektivet group chat.

* * *

**Kollektivet**

02:34

Yo, happy New Year.  
FYI bringing home someone

* * *

Eskild answers immediately with a selfie. He’s wearing a pair of glitter 2017-glasses, lips painted red and pursed in a kiss. There are a lot of people in the background, so it looks like whatever party he’s at, is still going strong and he probably won’t be home anytime soon. Isak lets out a little breath of relief at that.

* * *

**Kollektivet**

Eskild: Happy New Year, Isakyaki!!

Eskild: Points for remembering to text the gc that you’re bringing a hook-up home!! Good boy;)

Eskild: Also:  
Who who who who?

Not a hook-up.  
Just someone who’s too drunk to go home.

Eskild: How selfless of you, Isak!  
You’re like a young Jesus. Looking out for the drunk and poor

I'm hardly Jesus.

Eskild: You are!   
Baby Jesus <3

Whatever.

* * *

He rolls his eyes at Eskild’s text. He’s definitely no Jesus. But letting Emma crash at his place a couple of streets over is the least he can do. She’s his girlfriend after all, even if he hasn’t told Eskild that. 

Grabbing Emma’s hand again with a soft “come on.” he lets her lean on him as they take the short walk to his apartment building. When they get there, she’s pretty much deadweight, and he has to almost carry her up the stairs. He huffs out a breath of relief when they finally reach the landing, and he unlocks the door to the quiet kollektiv; Linn must be sleeping already.

He helps Emma out of her coat, then catches her as she stumbles out of her heels.

“Sorry, sorry.” She says, and he assures her that it’s fine, he’s been there himself. Well, not in heels but drunk, and she snorts a little laugh and lets him lead her to his room, where she falls head-first into his bed, burying her face in his good pillow.

For a moment he debates trying to get her out of the tight black dress, but ultimately settles for just zipping open the back and when he turns the lights off, Emma’s light snoring already fills the quiet of the room.

He strips off his shirt and socks and then shimmies out of his jeans before gingerly lying down next to her.

It’s the first time he’s had a girl in his bed, _ever_ , and as he takes a second to look at her; her lips slightly open and her short dark hair falling over her forehead, he can’t help but feel like there’s something wrong with the picture; she doesn’t belong in his bed.

He looks up at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to quell his racing thoughts, trying to keep his imagination from supplying him with images of _somebody else_ lying next to him in bed.

Closing his eyes he adamantly tries for sleep, but it’s only a couple of seconds before the vivid image of _someone else_ fills his mind again.

Even when closing his eyes, he can’t stop seeing Even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Even is backkkkk! (Though he'll be flying back to Tromsø soon...)
> 
> Obviously there are still a LOT of unsaid things and misunderstandings between the boys; stuff that can't be discussed while getting drunk at a crowded New Year's party with your respective _girlfriends_ , stuff that Isak isn't ready to admit to yet, questions he doesn't dare ask yet, questions Even doesn't know how to answer yet. But dare I say; hope lies ahead <3


	15. Friday 16 December 2016 (Even)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after bringing Even back in the previous chapter (❤️), I got an interesting question in the comments about whether Mikael, Elias and Jonas noticed the awkwardness of Even and Isak’s reunion, and what they made of it. It got me thinking that I really wanted to write a little something from Even’s pov preceding New Year’s Eve; something about him finally returning to Oslo, reconnecting with his friends, Sonja etc. One thing led to another, and this little (as in 6k words...) piece is what came out of it. It’s set in roughly the same time frame as the previous chapter; the days around Christmas and NYE but follows Even’s pov, providing some insight into Even’s mindset at this time. (Similar to the remix chapters of my other fic, _It’s all good baby baby_ , if you’re familiar with that :))
> 
> I wasn't originally planning to include any chapters from Even's pov in this fic, but I felt like writing this one, and I indulged myself. Hope you’ll enjoy it. If you’re not into shifting povs, that’s cool too, just skip this part and the story will continue from Isak’s pov soon.

**Friday 16 December 2016**

”…We’ll be commencing our descent to Oslo Gardermoen in about ten minutes and estimated time of arrival is in 45 minutes; 16:55 local time. It’s cloudy in Oslo with a temperature around 1° Celsius. On behalf of the crew and mysel-“

The pilot’s voice sounds tinny, and as Even puts his headphones back on and resumes listening to his playlist [Up up & away](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/639958059843764224/via), he briefly wonders why it always sounds like that; why don’t airlines ever improve their in-flight sound system? Like, if there was ever an important message like _brace, brace, we’re gonna perform an emergency landing on water!_ would it even be possible to hear it for the static of the sound system? _Well_ , he muses, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway; if he was on board a plane crashing into the cold water of the North Sea, chances of survival would probably be pretty slim, the pilot’s voice ringing out clearly or not.

_Thoughts of catastrophe or death are normal, Even, but try not to dwell on them._

His therapist’s words echo in his mind, and he turns up the volume of his headphones. Partly to drown out the metallic sound of the pilot’s voice wishing everyone a happy holiday, and partly to tamp down his random thoughts about emergency landings and plane crashes. Leaning his head against the cold windowpane, he busies himself by looking out the window, but the pitch-blackness of the December late afternoon makes it impossible to see anything. They’re still not quite close enough to Oslo to see the city lights. Soon, though. Ten more minutes or so, and he’ll probably be able to see the bright lights of his hometown, and in about 45 minutes he’ll be back for the first time in 8 months. The realization makes his heart beat a little faster, an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach.

He focuses on the _grounding breathing exercises,_ his therapist has taught him and zips his burgundy hoodie over his white t-shirt, pulling the hood up over his hair and his headphones. Then he rests his head back against the window.

45 minutes.

∙

His parents greet him at Arrivals; his mom immediately drawing him into a crushing hug, and he leans into it, now realizing how much he has missed his parents for the last 8 months.

“Welcome home, honey.” She says teary-eyed and Even squeezes her a little tighter; her face getting smushed a little against his sternum.

“…Have you always been this tall? Or have you grown since the last time I saw you?” her voice comes out a little muffled against the thick fabric of his winter jacket, and it makes him chuckle.

“Don’t think so. I should hope not.”

She pulls back with a smile and takes a long look at him, her hands resting on his biceps. “You look good, honey.”

“Thanks, mom.” he smiles back at her, and then it’s his father’s turn to draw him into a tight hug; they’re still at eye-level, so he guesses he hasn’t gotten taller over the last 8 months. 

“…It’s good to have you back, son.” His dad says, and Even swallows once.

“Yeah, it’s, uh…Good to be back.”

He hopes to eventually arrive at the feeling at some point during his two-and-a-half-week stay.

∙

They take the new car home; which after almost 8 months still has that new car smell, and it makes him feel a little uneasy as his father weaves smoothly in and out of the early-evening traffic en route to central Oslo. His mom tries to make amicable small-talk about his flight, school and Tromsø.

“…How’s Oslo?” He finally asks back, looking out the window, eyes catching on the tiny drops of rain running down the glass.

“Oh, Oslo is the same as always.” His mom smiles from the front passenger seat, “Dad and I went to the Christmas market at Spikersuppa last weekend. It was nice. You could bring Sonja there for a date.”

“Yeah, maybe.” he nods and draws up his phone to update Sonja on his arrival. She’d originally wanted to pick him up at the airport, but he’d lied and told her that his parents had been adamant about picking him up, and that he’d see her tomorrow. Now seeing the string of heart emojis she texts him back in response to his “ _finally landed”_ -text, he knows it was the right decision. He needs a little time to think.

Sliding his phone back into his jeans pocket and leaving his parents to small talk among themselves in the front, he rests his head against the backseat head rest and zones out to Chris Rea singing _Driving home for Christmas_ on the radio.

∙

Being back in his parents’ apartment; the place he’s lived all his life except for the last 8 months, feels weird. It’s decorated with Christmas ornaments, many of them dating back to when he was a kid, and everything looks both familiar and strange all at once. He sets his backpack on the floor, takes off his boots and hangs up his winter coat not quite knowing whether to behave like a guest or to make himself at home.

His mind inevitably flashes back to the last time he was there:

Back in early May, about a month after _the accident_ and the whole shitshow that ultimately led to him getting diagnosed, he’d finally gathered enough energy to sit his parents down at the dining room table. His unexpected assertiveness had made them look up at him expectantly, and he’d finally told them that he was so grateful for them, for all their help and unconditional love and support, but. He needed to get away. At that point his relationship with them had basically been reduced to surveillance; monitoring his every move, dosing out his meds and constantly looking worried. He needed a fresh start, a new beginning, a place where nobody knew him. A place where he wouldn’t run into people he knew on the street.

“I _need_ this.“ he’d said, carefully leaving out another main reason why he had to get away, even if it was hardly a secret; both his parents having been first-hand witnesses to his obsession with him. _Isak_.

After he’d pitched his desire to _leave,_ the rest of the afternoon had been weirdly quiet and stilted, like walking on eggshells. But the next morning, his parents had suggested that he stay in Tromsø for a while, and he’d nodded silently. Exactly. Tromsø. Basically as far away from Oslo as possible without leaving the country.

His mom had made arrangements for him to stay with his uncle Martin in the house he’d been coming to since he was a kid, and that had been it. He’d left for Tromsø two days later and hasn’t been back until now.

\--“…Do you want to lie down a bit, honey? Relax after your flight?” his mom’s soft voice effectively pulls him out of his own head and brings him back to the present and the Christmas-decorated apartment.

“It was a 2-hour flight, mom.” He looks back at her with a smile. “Not like I’ve crossed the Atlantic...”

“Two hours can be exhausting, too.” She smiles and nods towards his old room. “…I’ve made your bed and everything.”

He snorts a little laugh. “I’m _fine_ , mom. But I’ll take a cup of coffee. I skipped out on the plane…”

“Sure.” she beams at him. “…Let’s have coffee.”

He follows her to the kitchen, where she takes out the French press, fills water in the kettle and pours coffee beans in the grinder. “…I don’t blame you, honey. Plane coffee is dreadful.”

“Ugh, so bad.” he agrees and for a second both appreciates and lowkey hates his parents for raising him on ethically sourced, freshly ground coffee from Tim Wendelboe. 

“…What’s bad?” his dad asks, coming into the kitchen with a tray full of Christmas cookies.

“Plane coffee.” They say in unison, and his dad nods his assent, “true. The worst.”

It makes Even smile. He has _really_ missed his parents.

∙

He calls Sonja the next morning after breakfast, trying to match the enthusiasm in her voice but doesn’t quite succeed. They talk for a little while and then she asks: “So, when am I seeing you? I’ve really missed you, Ev.”

“I’ve missed you too, Son.” he says, and it’s not _exactly_ a lie. Part of him _has_ missed her. The familiarity of her, her body and how everything used to be so easy between them, how she knows him so well. Another part of him feels as if the 700 miles distance between Tromsø and Oslo has settled between them for good. To be fair though, the distance was probably already there, pushing them apart, before he ever left for Tromsø. 

“…Wanna go check out that Christmas thing at Spikersuppa today?” He asks, and she snorts a laugh over the phone, “…I didn’t think Christmas markets were your thing…?”

It makes him smile a slightly sarcastic “ _whaaaaat_? I love Christmas shit…”

“Okay, sure, baby. Hey, are you staying over at mine tonight?”

It’s been 8 months since they last had sex, not counting the skype sessions, and he’s. _Well_. He _needs_ it.

“Yes.” He says, and in response she drops her voice low, seductive. “Good. Can’t wait.”

His body reacts predictably after months of celibacy.

“…Meet me at Spikersuppa at 15:00 and we’ll take it from there?” he asks, and she agrees with a happy “sure. Can’t wait to go on a date with you. It’ll be just like old times.”

“Yeah.” he replies, even as he thinks to himself that it probably won’t ever be like the old times again. 

∙

He meets Sonja at Spikersuppa in the afternoon, and the familiarity of her scent and taste when they kiss is kinda soothing, even if the feeling of distance is still there. She looks beautiful in the soft glow from the Christmas lights of the market, and he takes her hand but lets her lead, as they casually stroll around the market. There’s a steady buzz of people and for a moment he enjoys being back in Oslo, revels in blending into the crowd until something, _someone_ in the distance catches his eye.

_Shit. No._

8 fucking months and he’s still not ready for this. For _him_.

His heartrate climbs until he can feel it pulsing in his throat, but he can’t stop looking at Isak across the market. He’s with a girl. Pretty with dark, short hair. She leans in and pecks him on the lips, and it makes something inside Even’s stomach twist into knots, hitting him with a sudden bout of nausea. Then the girl steps off to buy something, leaving Isak with his phone and Even keeps watching as Isak finally glances up from his phone and looks out over the market.

And it feels exactly like one of those cliché, slow-motion romcom scenes; he’s already two steps ahead in his mind, recognizes this bit as the part where the camera pans between them, the cheesy Christmas soundtrack playing in the background, and then Isak’s eyes will meet his own in 3-2-1- 

Even is frozen on the spot, unable to avert his eyes when Isak’s gaze finally catches on his. And even from across 30 meters it still feels like the air is being squeezed out of him.

“…Even? What’s up? Are you okay?” Sonja asks him a moment later, and he turns his face and forces his attention back to her, trying for a convincing smile despite his whole body feeling like jelly.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Just saw someone from Bakka, I think.” he goes with the first lie his muddled brain provides him with, and Sonja’s miraculously believes him, her lips pulling into a smile a split-second later, and then she reaches up on her tip toes to kiss him. He kisses her back with the feeling of his heart thudding directly against the thin skin of his ribcage. 

“...Wanna get outta here?” he says lowly, running his nose along her cheekbone, breathing in her calming scent.

“Yes.” She replies with a smiley nod, and he nods back an “okay.”, squeezing her hand tighter in his own to ground himself. Spotting the nearest exit he takes the lead, pulling her along with him through the crowd.  
∙

∙

Sonja’s alarm wakes them both up the next morning at 07:30, and Even stays on his back in bed for a few minutes, watching her get up and get ready for work in the dim lighting of the room.

“…Sorry for this.” She says apologetically, clasping her bra behind her back and adjusting it over her breasts. Then she trails her eyes over his naked body, settling on his impressive morning wood before dragging her eyes back up his body to meet his. “…I really wish I didn’t have to go to work, but...”

He gives her a smile and a suggestive eyebrow raise in response, thinking back to last night.

The sex had been good. Easy. Familiar. Had made the reward centers in his brain fire like crazy after eight months of celibacy. It probably would’ve been even better, if he’d been able to escape his thoughts. But, when Sonja had raised up on her knees and turned her back to him sometime during round two, and he’d gripped a fistful of her shortish blond hair while fucking her from behind, his thoughts had spiraled. He’d closed his eyes and for a split-second indulged in the fantasies playing on his closed eyelids, resulting in him coming embarrassingly fast. Afterwards she’d just smiled and told him she’d missed him too, and the feeling of doubt and guilt settling deep in his chest had effectively ruined his afterglow.

Shaking his thoughts, he crunches up and leans over to grab his boxers off the floor. “It’s okay, Son, no worries.”

He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers and then his t-shirt. “…I was thinking about calling Mikael or one of the guys to hang out, so.”

“Oh, okay.” She nods. “Well, tell them hi from me.”

“I will.” He smiles, faking confidence, and continues putting on his jeans and then shrugging into his hoodie.

They leave her apartment together, and she pulls him in close for a kiss on the street just outside the building.

“…What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, her lips sliding against his.

“Don’t know yet.”

“If you got time, I’m free.”

“I’ll text you.” He promises with a little nod and then ducks his face to kiss her cheek.

She turns her face slightly to chase his lips for a kiss and then smiles up at him. “…I really gotta go, can’t be late for work. I won salesperson of the month again last month.”

“Wooow!” he smiles back. “…That’s cool, Son!”

She pulls a little shrug. “…It’s just salesperson of the month, you know.”

“Babe, I’m still in _school_.” He retorts, giving her a pointed look, and she immediately recoils. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugs back. “…anyway, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. And Ev…” she says softly. “…I’m proud of you, too.”

And then she’s off, leaving him with a new knot in his stomach as she obliviously walks towards the tram stop.

∙

He makes the walk back to his parents’ apartment in about fifteen minutes, hangs up his jacket in the corridor and says a quick “hey” and “…Sonja says hi.” to his mom before padding to his old room. There he plops down in his old couch with his laptop and headphones, looking to distract himself with a movie or something for a few hours. 

It’s barely 10 minutes before his mom pops in though, and he slides his headphones down around his neck and looks up at her.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, honey. You’re home early.” She smiles, leaning against his doorframe. “Did you have breakfast at Sonja’s? If not, there’s some bread and coffee in the kitchen.”

“Uh.” He thinks for a second, then nods back. “…Sure. I’ll take some coffee.”

“Great.” She smiles, and he follows her to the kitchen where she sets a steaming cup of coffee on the table and gestures for him to sit down and dig in.

He does and sitting down at the nicely set breakfast table with bread, cheeses, cold cuts, fruit and even a little stack of waffles, makes him feel an unexpected spike of hunger, causing his stomach to growl a little.

“So…how is Sonja?” his mom asks, leaning back in her chair across from him with a cup of coffee.

“She’s good.” he says and leans forward to cut off a slice of bread and put on a bit of _brunost_.

“Did you go to the Christmas market?”

He nods around a mouthful of bread and caramel-sweet cheese. “We did, actually.”

“How did you like it?” she smiles over the rim of her coffee cup.

“It was, uh,” he wavers, the memory of Isak still so fresh in his mind. “…Uh…”

“What?” his mom asks, setting her cup down, her eyebrows drawing together in question and slight concern.

He figures he owes her at least a modicum of honesty after everything that’s happened. Also, he’s always been a shit liar, so.

“I just, uh… saw someone. At the market.”

“Okay…?” She replies, and he feels her eyes on him when he looks down at the grey linen tablecloth on the table, debating what to tell her. Turns out he doesn’t have to. 

“…Was it Isak?” she asks plain as day, and he lifts the coffee cup to his lips for something to do.

“Uh. Yes.”

“Did you talk to him?” she asks calmly; a stark contrast to his own messy turmoil of feelings.

“No.”

“Have you talked to him since-“

“No.” he cuts her off, setting his cup of coffee back on the table before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “…I haven’t.”

“Okay.” She says and takes another sip of coffee, and Even knows that she won’t press him for info. She’s always been cool like that. For his own part he doesn’t know whether he wants her to keep the fuck out of it, or if he wants her motherly advice. Looking over at her; her blond hair in a neat ponytail, hands wrapped around the Moomin porcelain cup as she smiles softly at him, he’s kinda leaning towards the latter, so he clears his throat and _tries_.

“I… don’t know what to say to him.”

“Hm.” She says thoughtfully, then sets her cup back down and pours herself a refill of coffee. “…Well, how do you feel about him? Do you still have feelings for him? I mean after…” she stops herself, but he knows what she means. Does he still have feelings for him after his manic-driven obsession with him in the spring.

The look he sends her makes her pull a face: “…Was that the wrong thing to say, or?”

“Yes. No…” he says, and he knows he’s not really giving her anything. So, he tries again, looks her in the eyes this time. “It’s just that I… don’t know. How I feel about him. Or what _he_ feels, or…anything, really.”

“Okay. You could ask him, you know.” She says, and it makes him roll his eyes a little at her.

“Mom…”

She shrugs. “Just an idea.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” He says sarcastically and takes another sip of coffee.

“What about Sonja?”

“…What about her?” he says, growing slightly annoyed.

“Do you know how you feel about _her_?” his mom says, and he respects the way her voice is devoid of judgment.

“No.” he replies simply, then drops his head back against the chair with a low sigh.

His display of hardship makes his mom chuckle a little.

“Well. I’m sure you’ll figure it all out, honey. And you know that your dad and I support you no matter what.”

He slowly lifts his head back up and sends her a little smile in response. “I know, mom. Thanks.”

“Of course. We love you. No matter who you love.” She smiles, getting up from her chair. “…More coffee?”

He nods in response.

His parents have always been cool like that.

∙

Later, when he’s chilling in his old room, he thinks about his mom’s advice.

_You could ask him, you know._

Picking up his phone from his pocket, he opens his text conversations and scrolls down. Way down. Until he sees _The genius from Hartvig Nissen_. His heart sinks a little as his eyes scan over the name he never bothered to change. He opens the conversation and reads the last message Isak sent to him.

* * *

**The genius from Hartvig Nissen**

14 Aug 2016 02:34

Hey are you coming backto Oslo?

I mean I heard that you staying in Tromsø

But are you coming back??

* * *

He never replied, even now wouldn’t know how to. Still doesn’t know if Isak _wants_ him to return, or to stay the fuck away.

Ignoring his mom’s advice, he exits the conversation opting to open his contacts instead and scrolls down to _M,_ letting his thumb hover over Mikael’s name. The call is so long overdue, it’s ridiculous. So, he finally presses Mikael’s number and makes the call.

Mikael picks up a couple of seconds later with a slightly hesitant “…hey, Even?”

“Hey.” He says back, biting his lip for a moment. Fuck, how he’s missed the familiar voice of his best friend. “…What, uh, are you doing today?”

“Uh, nothing man.” Mikael says, and it’s still a little shaky. A lot surprised. Like he can’t believe Even is actually on the other end.

“…Wanna hang?” Even asks, drawing in a breath and holding it for a moment. Then he figures that he should probably provide Mikael with some context as to shy he’s calling him out of the blue. “…I’m, uh, home for the holidays.”

“…For sure, man.” Mikael says, and it makes Even let out his breath and smile widely against the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Of course, Ev.” Mikael says, and Even can hear the smile in his voice.

“…Wanna come over to my place?” Mikael then asks, “…I’m rooming with Mutta now. In Tøyen. “

Even snorts a surprised, little laugh. “Really? Sounds fun.”

“It is. Except that Mutta’s a slob.” Mikael deadpans.

Even laughs again. “Wow, coming from you, Mik, that’s. Rich.”

“Shut the fuck up, man.” Mikael says with a laugh on the other end, and it makes Even feel happier than he has felt in a long while. 

“…Just text me your new address, and I’ll be over in like half an hour or so.” He smiles against the phone, and Mikael says back a “sure, man. See you.”

Ten seconds later, a text comes through with an address in Tøyen, and Even slips his phone into his pocket and shrugs into a hoodie and then his outerwear and sneakers, placing his headphones around his neck. On his way out, he rounds the living room and leans down giving his mom a kiss on the cheek, telling her that he’s going to Mikael’s new place. The smile she sends him almost rivals the one he made at his phone, when Mikael agreed to hang out.

∙

He starts feeling nervous the moment he turns the corner on the street where Mikael and Mutta apparently share an apartment now, and snippets from his latest session with his therapist in Tromsø — the one where he’d told her, that he had finally decided on returning to Oslo for the holidays, and that he kinda _really wanted_ to see his friends again, but he wasn’t sure how to start everything back up — float to the forefront of his brain, as he comes closer and closer to Mikael’s- and Mutta’s entrance door.

 _“Remember you are not your illness, Even.”_ She’d said, and he clearly remembers raising his eyebrows at her and calling her out; asking what kind of fucking psychiatrist cliché that was.

Afterwards they’d had a pretty decent talk though.

 _Think about how much you want to share. With_ whom _and_ how _._

Climbing up the stairs to Mikael’s and Mutta’s place, he has to wipe his palms on his jeans as he prepares for the worst: Mikael and Mutta basically telling him they don’t want him as a friend anymore. Climbing another flight of stairs, he quickly decides that if that happens, he’ll just bow his head and accept it; maybe call the airline for an earlier flight back to Tromsø. He _knows_ that leaving Oslo without telling anyone and ghosting his best friends for 8 months only to show up like nothing has happened, is a serious dick move. Yet another one of his major fuck ups. 

His heart is in his throat as he takes a deep breath and then knocks on the door, trailing his eyes over the hand-written piece of paper with _Mikael & Mutasim_ while he waits for someone to open- and slam the door right back in his face.

Mikael opens the door a moment later and greets him with a happy “yo, Even! Come in, man.”, and just like that his nervousness goes away. He hasn’t fucked _everything_ up, after all.

“Hey, Mik.” He says back, breathing out in relief and leaning into Mikael’s tight hug, as they sway a little from side to side.

“I can’t believe you’re here, man.” Mikael says, clapping his back. 

“No, I know what you mean.” Even says back with a slight raise of his eyebrows, and Mikael smiles at him then gestures for him to follow him into the apartment, and Even happily obliges, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on a metal coat hook on the wall of the corridor.

"Sorry for the mess, we moved in like a month ago..." Mikael says apologetically, and Even follows him to the living room where they plop down in each end of a large, soft couch.

“No worries, Mik." Even smiles, then looks around the living room and open kitchen. "It's a nice place. And big."

“Yeah." MIkael nods. "...Adam was supposed to move in too actually, but he found something cheaper and ditched us last minute. So, right now we have a spare room filled with crap and a hella steep rent."

Even snorts a little laugh. "Shit, that sucks."

"Yeah." Mikael nods. "...we're hoping to find another roomie soon. But Mutta's in charge of putting the room on finn.no, so y'know..." he does a little eyebrow raise to underline Mutta's sloppiness.

“Right." Even smiles back knowingly. "…Where is Mutta by the way?”

“Uh, he’s at work, I think. Or maybe his parents’. I don’t remember, honestly.” Mikael says, and the fact that it’s only him and Mikael for now makes Even relax a little deeper into the couch.

_Take it one step at a time._

“Okay. Cool.”

“Yeah.” Mikael smiles, “…But, man, how have you been? I mean, Tromsø…?” he asks and then pulls out a little ziplock bag of weed from behind a couch cushion and starts rolling up on the coffee table in front of them.

“Yeah…” Even says back with a little chuckle at the secret stash of weed. So typical of Mikael. “Well, you know… Tromsø is… Tromsø.”

“…Honestly never thought you’d leave Oslo, man. You’re the most _Oslo_ guy I know.” Mikael says with a little smirk, fingers still working on the joint.

“Uh, thanks, or?” Even laughs back, “…you know I’ve been coming to Tromsø since I was a kid, right? Every summer-“

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Mikael smiles back softly. “…But still.”

Even nods. It’s not exactly like he had plans of leaving Oslo either, until suddenly it was all he could think about. _Getting away_.

“…But I’ve been good, I guess. Tromsø is nice.”

“Yeah?” Mikael smiles, “are you in school, or?”

“Yeah, I’m retaking third year.”

“That’s cool, man.” Mikael smiles genuinely, and Even nods. “Yeah.”

Mikael finishes the joint then and grabs a lighter off the coffee table to light up. Then he stretches the joint out to Even. “You want?”

Even eyes the joint for a moment. He hasn’t really smoked since the spring. Except for a few times in Tromsø, when his classmates have offered at parties.

“Uh…no thanks, man.”

"Cool cool.” Mikael nods in understanding. 

They talk a bit more, about his new school in Tromsø and about Mutta, Elias and the rest of the guys. Turns out none of them is doing anything important with their life right now, and for completely selfish reasons, it makes Even feel a little less of a failure for still being in school.

When Mikael has smoked half of the blunt, he gently puts it out and sets it in the ceramic ashtray Even remembers him making back in 5th grade art class. Then he turns to Even, looking a little apprehensive despite the weed he just smoked.

“…But um… How have you been, man? Like, for real?”

Even’s heart rate picks up a little.

_For real?_

“Uh…” he says, dropping his gaze to his cold hands resting on his thighs. Then his eyes trail over to the half-finished joint in the ashtray.

“…Can I have a hit, anyway?” he chin-points at the joint, and Mikael nods, handing it over to him along with a lighter.

He lights up and takes a couple of deep inhales. Half a joint probably won’t kill him. Or fuck up his brain.

“ _For real_?” he then says, looking back at Mikael, “…it’s been kinda…shitty.”

Mikael nods and then looks at him for a few long seconds, before continuing quietly. “Sonja said that you, uh…”

Even looks back, urging him to go on, because uttering the words himself is too… much.

“…That you, uh, were in an accident? Back in the spring…”

“Yeah.” he says back softly. “…I was lucky. Got out with only a couple of cuts and a sprained wrist. But I totaled my parents’ car…”

“Shit.” Mikael says eloquently, and Even can only nod in reply. Shit, indeed.

“What happened?” Mikael then says, and it makes Even roll in his lip in thought, because Mikael is now bordering on where it all becomes murky.

“I was manic.” He then says, going for sounding matter-of-factly but leaving out the details as to why he’d taken his parents’ car in the middle of the night after smoking a fuckton of jay. “…Got diagnosed with bipolar right after.”

“Bipolar?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Mikael nods back in understanding. “So, like, back in the spring you were manic?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time, but. Yeah.” He takes another deep inhale of the blunt, pulls a little shrug. “…I was manic, and then I was depressed.” 

“Okay…” Mikael says thoughtfully. “…But, um… you’re better now?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Are you, uh…” Mikael shifts in his seat then and eyes the joint between Even’s fingers, and Even wordlessly passes it back to him with a half-smile, watching as Mikael takes a deep inhale.

“…Are you, like, on medication?” Mikael finally says, then “…Sorry if it’s too-"

“No, it’s fine, Mik.” He assures him with another half-smile. He wants him to know about him. Desperately wants his best friend back. “…Yes, I take medication. And I have a therapist back in Tromsø.”

Mikael nods. “Good. I mean. Good.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Mikael smiles back at him, and the relief Even feels from finally telling his best friend about the thing he’s been trying to escape for the past 8 months, makes him relax back in the couch, warmth finally settling in his cold hands and feet.

∙

The rest of the afternoon they spend casually alternating between playing FIFA and talking. Then Mutta comes home, and the moment he spots Even in the couch, he lunges at him with a loud “Eveeeeeeeeeen, broooooooo!” tackling him and kinda almost straddling him in the process, and all Even can do is laugh and hug him back with an equally happy “Muttaaaaa!”

Finally, Mutta extracts himself and plops down in the couch next to Even, shrugging out of his winter jacket and dumping it unceremoniously on the floor.

“Even, my bro. You’re back.” He says, lips pulled into a wide smile as he leans in and ruffles Even’s hair, which has grown kinda long during his Tromsø-stay.

“Yeah, just got back in town two days ago.” Even smiles back.

“…Are you back for good, or?” Mutta says, and Even shakes his head once. “No. Just for the holidays. For now.”

Mutta nods solemnly, quiet for a moment.

“Well. It’s good to see you, bro. Really good.” He then says, before turning his face away for a second, and Even isn’t sure if he’s wiping a tear away from his eye or what’s going on.

It makes something swell inside his chest and he gently puts a hand on Mutta’s shoulder. “…I’m happy to see you too, man.”

When Mutta turns back it’s with a nod and a playful smile. “…I want to hear about Tromsø, but I’m fucking starving, though. You guys in for pizza?”

“Sure.” Mikael smiles.

“Absolutely.” Even nods, and Mutta immediately takes his phone up and effectively orders three pizzas. The fact that he effortlessly remembers Even’s old order makes Even feel warm to his bones.

He finally feels _home_.

∙

It’s around 10 pm, after several games of FIFA and a lot more talking, that Even figures he should probably call it a night.

Mutta and Mikael both stand up with him from the couch and follow him to the corridor, where he puts on his jacket and toes into his sneakers.

“…It was so good to see you, man.” Mutta says and draws him into a tight hug, clapping his back.

“You too, Mutta.” He says back and then it’s Mikael’s turn to hug him.

“Uh, by the way…” Mikael says as they separate, “…I met Isak a couple of months ago… At Elias’...”

The way he says it is so casual, so “ _by the way”_ it almost sounds rehearsed, and Even has to take a moment to try to be able to match the casualness of his voice.

“Isak? How is he?” he says, trying to make it sound like they’re just discussing any old acquaintance.

“Good, I guess.” Mikael smiles. “…He’s a second year now. Full science elective and all…”

It makes Even smile through the tension in his body. “Good for him.”

“Yeah…” Mikael smiles back. Then “…Yo, what are you doing for New Year’s, man?”

“Um… dunno.” Even replies, happy with the change of subject. He honestly hasn’t paid a single thought to New Year’s this year, though.

“Remember Matheo from Bakka?” Mikael asks to which he nods. “…He’s having a huge party…Elias is coming, too.”

“Okay…” Even wavers, because _Bakka_. He’s not sure he’s ready to be confronted with _that_ , just yet.

“…Faen, speaking of Elias, you should give him a call, man. I’m sure he’ll be stoked to hear that you’re back…” Mutta then cuts in, and Even nods because _that_ he can do; Mutta and Mikael have just shown him that his Oslo crew is still _there_. And he misses Elias, would be happy to hang out with him too.

“Will do.” He smiles, and then puts his hand on the door handle, “…See you guys soon?”

“Sure, man.” Mikael nods, “when are you flying back to Tromsø?”

“3 January.” he replies, and for the first time since he boarded the plane in Tromsø airport, he’s not necessarily looking forward to going back.

“Okay.” Mikael nods, “…lets hang out next week?”

“Absolutely.” Even smiles. “…Just not the weekend. Christmas, y’know…”

“Shit, right.” Mutta smiles beside him. “…Merry Christmas and all that, or whatever.”

Even chuckles. “…Or whatever.”

He steps out with a last smile and starts down the stairs, when Mikael’s voice rings clear from a few steps above.

“…Hey, think about New Year’s at Matheo’s, man. Think it’s gonna be worth it.”

“I’ll think about it.” He nods back with a smile, and then he bounces down the stairs, making a mental note to remember to check with Sonja what she’s doing for New Year’s.

_One step at a time._


	16. Just Do It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up right after chapter 14 and is back to Isak's pov.  
> Enjoy this +9k beast, folks!

New Year’s Day offers a clear and crisp morning with bright winter sunlight streaming in through Isak’s curtain-free windows. The relentless sunshine makes him stir in bed; still half-asleep he burrows deeper under the duvet and then lazily flops onto his stomach. The feeling of his crotch connecting with the mattress draws a sleepy murmur of pleasure out of him, and he presses harder against the sheet to add pressure; morning boner far more insistent than usual courtesy of a hangover and the remnants from a semi-explicit sex dream. Keeping his eyes closed, he buries his face in the pillow in a weak attempt to block out the light and stay asleep. It’s a losing battle but he still chases the dream; determined to stay in it just a little while longer:

_He’s in a random apartment, maybe Matheo’s though it doesn’t quite look like it. Him and Even on an empty balcony. He leans against the railing as a bare-chested dream-Even pops open the buttons of his dress shirt and kisses down his chest then drops to his knees and gives him a sloppy blowjob while Sonja and Emma watch through a glass door._

Everything is all dreamlike blurry; sort of intangible and a little weird, but it still makes a throb of arousal travel down his spine to settle heavily in his groin. His hips start moving on their own, grinding slowly into the mattress as he desperately tries to cling on to the phantom feeling of dream-Even’s lips around his dick while the details of the dream frustratingly dissipate like cigarette smoke as he returns more and more to consciousness.

It’s a little sound coming from right beside him, that finally rips him fully out of the dream. It’s quiet but sounds foreign. A short rustling of a duvet. Instant panic sets in and makes his body tense up and his hips still; sleep-fuzzy brain trying to catch up with who’s there and _why the fuck he’s not alone in bed_. Opening his eyes and seeing Emma there makes the fight-or-flight feeling subside, but he’s still confused as to why she’s lying next to him in his bed, fully awake turned onto her side and watching him with her lips curled into a smile.

Right. Last night. The New Year’s thing at Matheo’s. He took her home.

“…Uh, hey.” He croaks out lamely as he flops onto his back, staring into the ceiling in slight mortification that she just witnessed him dry humping the mattress.

“Hey.” She smiles back, her eyes twinkling in the brightness of the room. ”…Good dream?” 

He swallows in embarrassment.

“Mhmm.”

“…That’s nice.” She says unknowingly and shuffles closer to him, pillowing her cheek where his chest meets his shoulder. He clears his throat and keeps his eyes at the ceiling, feeling weirdly guilty about the erection still tenting his boxers and the fact that it has absolutely nothing to do with her. 

Plastering herself against his side, she’s silent for a moment, then there’s a slight hitch in her breath and she puts a warm hand on his chest. Trails it down tentatively before nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck, speaking softly against his skin.

”…Sorry about yesterday…”

It sounds so guilty, that he has to take a second to decipher what she means. Then it dawns on him; the tight dress, the selfie, the ” _hey-can-we-meet-up-later_?”-texts. Shit, she’d totally intended for them to have sex for the first time yesterday but seeing that she got so drunk at Matheo’s that she could barely stand, they never got around to it.

”Oh… Nah, don’t worry about it.” He says, meaning it with all his heart. She _really_ shouldn’t feel guilty for them not having sex. “…How are you feeling?”

”I’m okay.” She smiles, slowly trailing her hand lower towards his crotch. ”…How are you?”

”I’m, uh…a little hung-over.”

Knowing where this is going, he crunches up; the duvet pooling around his hips and concealing where he’s now starting to go soft in response to the thought of having sex with her. 

”Um, I’ll, uh… be right back.”

He quickly stands up and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

Inside he leans against the locked door, lets his head fall back against the wood and breathes.

 _Shit_.

He takes a couple of steadying deep breaths, then moves to the toilet to pee. Afterwards he washes his hands and splashes his face with a bit of cold water, thinking about Emma lying in his bed, probably fully expecting him to fuck her. He sticks his hands under the cold water again, and stares blankly at the white porcelain sink, trying to clear his somewhat hungover brain enough to figure out yet another way to skip out on sex. No default excuses available this time; no midterms or Christmas or _other plans_ because who the fuck has plans on 1 January? No one.

His hands have gone cold and a little numb from where he’s held them under the cold tap, so he turns the water off and looks at himself in the mirror.

_Just fucking do it._

∙

Emma smiles up at him when he returns. Her body is covered by the duvet up to her naked shoulders, and Isak cleverly deduces that she has taken off her dress. Her bra too. Possibly her panties. Swallowing thickly, he returns to bed still wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and slides down next to her, coming to rest on his back. Emma pulls off the duvet and shuffles closer to him. Naked.

“Hey.” She smiles, bashfully catching her lip between her teeth and putting her hand back on his chest, and he feels nothing but disappointment and anger at himself for not being stoked at the sight - a beautiful, naked girl in his bed, practically offering herself up. He could probably lose his virginity right now if he wanted to; earning him mad cred in the squad, if only he hadn’t lied about already having had sex with her.

“…Hey.” He finally says back, and she shuffles even closer with a smile, then begins kissing his neck, her hand moving down, down, down his chest. It tickles sort of uncomfortably, and he has half the urge to push her off, but doesn’t, lets her continue all the way to the waistband of his sweats. He closes his eyes when she reaches into his boxers and takes his soft dick in her hand.

As he closes his eyes, the memory of Even at the party last night immediately resurfaces, then images of Even and Sonja making out on the makeshift dancefloor mingling with fuzzy details from the sex dream from before. He feels himself start to chub up at the same time his thoughts begin spiraling; wondering for a moment whether Sonja and Even are in Sonja’s bed having sex right now too. The idea of Even naked in bed makes him grow harder in Emma’s hand but he also starts feeling queasy; weird cognitive dissonance raising a strong sense of dizzying unease within him.

He sits up abruptly, suddenly afraid he’s going to throw up.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I’m…”

He stands up and crosses the few meters to his door and then almost runs to the bathroom, dropping into a crouch in front of the toilet.

Nothing comes up, but he can’t shake the nausea. 

∙

When he shakily returns to his room, Emma is fully dressed, standing up and getting ready to leave. 

“Did I, um, do something wrong?”

Her voice comes out quiet and a little insecure where she’s standing with her back to his door.

Isak swallows around the tightness in his throat, another spike of nausea travelling down to his gut.

“No. You didn’t.”

He comes up to her, and she reluctantly turns around, avoiding his eyes.

“…I guess I’m just way more hung-over, than I thought.” He offers in explanation, and she looks up at him for a moment then nods.

“Okay. That sucks.”

“ _Ja_.” He sucks in a breath, and she picks up her clutch from where she left it on his desk yesterday; drops her phone into it and zips it closed.

“I’m just gonna…go home.”

“Okay.” He nods and follows her to the door, where she puts on her coat and heels, and he feels a little sorry for sending her out like this; those heels look hella uncomfortable, but he _really_ wants to be alone. 

“…I hope you feel better soon.” She finally says, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Yeah, thanks. Me too.” he nods, the irony of his own words not lost on him even through the haze of nausea.

As soon as he has closed the door behind her he does actually feel better; it’s like an immediate surge of relief, making the nausea subside by 90%. It’s short-lived though. The thought of his room and the slightly rumpled sheets and the smell of Emma in his bed makes a knot of frustration settle in his stomach and he decides to ditch his own room in favor of the kitchen.

Padding into the silent kitchen, he pours himself a glass of water and gulps it down in a few mouthfuls.

“…There’s Coke and Fanta in the fridge...“

Eskild’s hoarse voice coming from the living room is sudden and loud in the quiet of the apartment, and it almost makes Isak choke on his water.

“Uh, Eskild, hey.” He coughs. “…You’re up.”

“Up and up….” Eskild says in reply, sounding much worse off than Isak in the hang-over department. “…Bring me a glass of Coke, will you? Pleeeeeease, Baby Jesus…”

Isak rolls his eyes slightly at the nickname Eskild made up in the group chat last night and apparently hasn’t forgotten despite his heavy hangover. Then he takes out another glass and pours up a glass for Eskild, picks up both of them and pads to the couch, where Eskild slowly sits up to make room for him, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with a hand, mumbling something about _this fucking sunshine_ and “…you know how people say 1 January is a day of _new beginnings_? I say fuck’ em.”

Isak huffs in agreement, handing Eskild the glass of Coke, which he accepts with a quasi-toast before taking a long and loud gulp. Then he leans back in the couch with a groan, closing his eyes.

Isak takes a sip too, and sets his glass down on the coffee table, taking pity on Eskild when he makes a high, whiny sound while stretching out his glass towards Isak like a helpless toddler.

“Jeez…” Isak mutters, as he takes the glass from Eskild’s hand and sets it down on the table.

“… _Thank you_ , Baby J, you’re so good to the old and weak.” Eskild says theatrically.

“Yeah, yeah.” Isak says, slight amusement pushing through the lingering feeling of uneasiness he’s felt since waking up next to Emma.

Eskild opens one eye to peer at him, his lips quirking into a little smirk. “…I see you even dressed the part.” He nods minutely at Isak’s chest, and Isak looks down at himself and the image of Jesus on the cross on the front of his t-shirt. Well, Eskild’s t-shirt, to be fair.

He doesn’t bother with a reply, just leans forward and picks up his glass from the coffee table again and brings it to his lips for another gulp of blissfully cold soda.

“…Who was that, by the way?” Eskild then says, doing a tiny head jerk in the direction of the door.

“Uh…” Isak sets the glass down again, his eyes for a second focusing on the ring of condensation left by the glass on the surface of the coffee table.

“Isaaaaaak. Tell me.” comes Eskild hoarse, but persistent voice and Isak snaps his eyes back up to look at him.

“Uh, Emma. My girlfriend.”

Eskild’s eyes widen at his reply, and he hoists himself up into sitting position. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” Isak says flatly, already regretting telling Eskild about Emma. He just knows that the lack of enthusiasm in his voice will prompt _questions_ from Eskild.

“…Since when? Why haven’t you told us, Baby J?” Eskild says with a dramatic hand over his heart, sounding half-surprised, half-offended.

“Since about a month ago.” Isak says with a shrug. “…And who’s _we_? Are you using the Royal We about yourself here?” he lifts an eyebrow at Eskild.

“I’m not actually.” Eskild smiles back. “I meant _we_ as in Linn and me. Though I do like the majestic plural.”

“…Yeah, you would…” Isak snorts back, and it makes Eskild scoff a “pfft” at him.

“…But anyway, don’t think you’re getting out of this one!” Eskild then levels him with a look, “…Who is she? Where have you met her?”

“Jeez, chill, Eskild. She goes to Nissen, too. First year.”

“Okay…why haven’t I met her before? I mean, why haven’t you introduced her to us? Me and Linn, I mean.”

Isak snorts. “You make it sound like you’re my parents or something.”

In a quick response Eskild sways his head a little from side to side; a pure display of sassiness. “…Well, you do live under my roof, so…”

Isak rolls his eyes. “On a _contract_. I pay rent...”

“True.” Eskild smiles back, then leans forward and picks up his glass from the coffee table, sending Isak another sassy look. “…Rent for January is due today, by the way.”

“I’ll vipps you.” Isak winks cheekily and Eskild throws back a “you better.” There’s no heat to it though, and it wouldn’t be the first time Eskild let him off easy with being late on rent. He makes a mental note to vipps Eskild the money today though. And to text his dad a _Happy new year._

“…So anyway, she stayed the night? Your girlfriend…”

“Yeah. We were at a party literally around the corner, so…”

“So, you brought her here to celebrate New Year’s with a _bang_ …” Eskild purses his lips lewdly, and Isak feels the disappointment in himself resurface uncomfortably.

_Hardly._

“Uh, no. She was really drunk, so.”

“Oh, right.” Eskild gestures vaguely at his chest. “The whole Jesus thing…” 

“Yeah.” Isak says dismissively, thinking about migrating back to his own room because he really doesn’t feel like talking more about Emma.

“…I had a girlfriend too once.” Eskild muses, just as Isak is about to stand up. “…In first year. Iben. Great boobs.”

The information makes Isak stop in his tracks and shoot Eskild a disbelieving frown.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” Eskild says defiantly, a frown appearing between his brows. “…What, just because I’m gay, I can’t have an opinion on boobs?”

“No, I-“ Isak tries, but Eskild soldiers on undeterred. “…Cuz I _love_ boobs. Tits. Melons. Honke-“

“Yes, okay, I get it, you like boobs.” Isak cuts in, this time effectively stopping Eskild. “…No, I just didn’t know you’d had a girlfriend, is all.” he says, looking down at the floor as he pushes his socked foot lightly at the junction between floorboards.

“…I did.” Eskild nods slowly. “…For about a month. Then I finally owned up to the fact that I’d much rather be fucking Markus from 3STA. Thank God.”

“Oh.” Isak swallows; Eskild’s story beginning to sound all too familiar. “Did you, uh, tell your girlfriend that?”

“Not in so many words… But I guess, the whole school finding out I sucked Markus’ dick in one of the school bathrooms kinda, y’know, _tipped her off_ …”

Isak nods, too deep in his own mind to laugh.

“Was that how you came out?” he asks, his voice small and hesitant.

“You could say that.” Eskild smiles.

Isak nods again, silent for a moment before he jerks his head in the direction of his own room, “I’m gonna…”

“Sure.”

He makes it a few steps towards his room before Eskild speaks up again.

“Let me know, if you ever want to talk, Issy.”

Isak stops and turns around, looking back at Eskild, heartbeat picking up. “Uh, about what?”

He fully expects Eskild to say something along the lines of _about coming out_ or _about wanting to fuck guys_. He can already feel the panic rising in his chest; he is so not ready for this conversation right now; nausea still bubbling just below the surface. 

Eskild doesn’t say any of that, though. Just shrugs.

“…Fuck do I know. New beginnings, old beginnings. Happy endings...” He snickers at his own innuendo, and Isak rolls his eyes at the inane hungover randomness, feeling the panic subside a little.

“…Well, anything, really.” Eskild then says, looking a little more serious, and Isak swallows then nods back.

“Okay. Sure, Eskild.”

“Anytime, Isak.”

He lets Eskild’s words settle for a moment and then turns on his heel and heads to the quiet of his own room. Turning on the tv he plops down in bed and strips the pillowcase off the pillow Emma used last night, throwing it in the direction of his hamper. Then he settles back against the wall with his pillows and powers up Netflix, ready to zone out to some stand-up show or something equally mind-numbing because fuck _new beginnings_.

∙

Later, when the apartment has gone completely quiet and dark, Isak finally turns off the Netflix stand-up marathon he has indulged in for most of the day, and picks up his laptop, leaning back against the pillows behind his back.

He opens a new browser window and drums his fingers on the keyboard, thinking about the wording of what he’s about to google. Then he starts typing, fingers a little hesitant on the keyboard as he writes out his question.

_How to get turned on by girls if you’re gay?_

A bunch of discussion forums pop up in the search results, and he lets his eyes skim over the text excerpts, finally clicking on one:

_How do gay guys get it up for a woman?_

He quickly reads through a couple of answers, eyes settling on one.

_I get drunk and try to focus on what’s attractive about the girl. Works for me._

He closes the lid of the laptop with a quiet sigh and flops back in bed. He’s not drunk, but he still closes his eyes and tries to think about Emma, tries to focus on her soft, short hair, her smooth skin and her slim body, her narrow hips, the way her smallish breasts flatten in his palms when she grabs his hand and puts it on her chest.

Hanging on to the mental image of her body seems impossible though. Like the details of a dream dissipating, the images of her body fade away, replaced with something else. Someone else. Her dark hair becomes lighter and longer; sandy-blond locks long enough to pull curling down a strong neck, broad shoulders, a half-open white dress shirt over a flat chest. Full lips pursed around a cigarette. Those same full lips closing around his dick.

The image makes his pulse quicken and blood rush to his groin so fast he almost gets lightheaded. He’s fully hard in less than two seconds, cock pushing insistently against the tight cotton of his boxers, and he drops a hand to feel himself up over his boxers, tracing the hard outline of his erection. The half-hearted attempt to direct his thoughts back to Emma is pointless; the vague image of her slips through the cracks, and instead there’s only Even, Even, Even and the all-consuming fantasy of _those lips_ closing around his dick.

Pushing the waistband of his boxers down just enough for his hard dick to spring free, he gives in to the fantasy and wraps a tight fist around himself, spreading the pre-cum leaking from the slit down his length. It’s an easy slide, so he picks up the pace and goes tighter; his dick straining heavily in his hand and his balls already drawing up as he closes in hard and fast on the finish line; body tense and high-strung since last night.

Splaying his thighs wide, he arches back against the sheets and comes; pearly spurts of cum soaking his pubes and the trail of hair leading down from his navel as he works himself through it, prolonging the pleasure until he gets too sensitive.

Despite the quickness of it, it’s one of those orgasms that leaves him almost breathless, slack-jawed on the pillow, arm falling limply down beside him and it’s only when the cum starts to dry tackily in his pubes that he finds the energy to reach for the roll of toilet paper beside his bed and clean himself up.

Holy _fuck_.

∙ 

His alarm buzzes him awake at 7 am the next morning and as he hits snooze, he seriously considers skipping school because honestly, school on 2 January is fucking _inhumane._ Then he remembers that he’s hovering just below the 10% absence quota, and he sits up with a tired groan and reluctantly grabs a clean pair of boxers then trudges to the bathroom for a shower.

Walking into Nissen’s schoolyard 45 minutes later, he quickly spots Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi in the far corner, and he walks up to them with a little smile, looking forward to catch up with the guys again after a long Christmas break.

“Yoooooo, Issy! Happy New Year!” Magnus greets him enthusiastically with a hand slap turned hug, and he smiles back, giving Magnus’ back a single clap and then moving on to slap Mahdi’s hand.

“Yeah, happy New Year’s, guys.”

“Sounds like some New Year’s party you guys went to…” Mahdi smirks, and Isak draws his eyebrows together in question.

“Hmm?”

Mahdi gestures at Jonas.

“Jonas just told us he fucked your girlfriend’s best friend.”

Isak turns to Jonas then, remembering him making out with Emma’s friend Lea at New Year’s.

“You hooked up with Lea?” He smiles at Jonas, who nods.

“…Think about it, you guys can double-date now.” Magnus says enthusiastically.

“Uh. Right.”

Isak gives Magnus a half-hearted nod, even though the thought of double-dates almost makes him shudder. He thinks back to the New Year’s party and the weird double datey dynamic between him and Emma and Even and Sonja. He can hardly think of anything worse than sitting through a double date with Even and Sonja, but double dating with Jonas and Emma’s best friend Lea isn’t exactly high on the list either.

The whole _dating_ part with Emma isn’t high on his list to be honest.

He snaps back to reality, when Jonas snorts a little laugh at Magnus.

“Chill, Mags, it’s not like we’re _dating exactly…_ ”

“…So you’re just fucking her?” Mahdi asks, and Jonas shrugs casually.

“ _Fucked her_. Singular.”

“Playa.” Mahdi smirks, and Isak smiles a bit as he watches Jonas get ribbed for being a player when he’s hands down the most chivalrous in the squad. Compared to how _he’s_ treating Emma, dude’s a fucking saint.

∙

After sitting through a whole day of boring-ass classes, and stealthily dodging Emma in the school yard, at 14:30 Isak is finally free to go home and chill. Or, start work on a math hand-in for later this week, which would probably be the more _sensible choice_.

As soon as he has dumped his jacket and sneakers in the corridor of the kollektiv, he goes straight to his room, plopping down in his bed and turning on his tv for a game of FIFA, promptly ignoring his laptop and math homework for now.

He’s barely 5 minutes into the first match, against Manchester United, when Eskild waltzes in - no knocking – just plops down on the bed next to him, shoving his phone right in Isak’s face.

“…What do you think about this guy…?”

“Uh…” Isak drags his eyes off the TV screen, hands still working the PlayStation controller and takes a quick glance at Eskild’s phone. Grindr.

“Dunno.” he shrugs disinterestedly, turning back to the match.

“Is he hot, or?” Eskild says, looking at the screen from different angles as if that will somehow magically change the guy’s appearance.

Isak frowns. “How the fuck should I know, I’m not gay.”

“I’m not saying you’re gay, Isak….” Eskild says.

“…Though I did meet you at a gay bar…” he smirks, but Isak doesn’t find it funny.

Pausing the game of FIFA he turns to Eskild.

“Uh _ja,_ ” he says, voice coming out angry. Riled up. “…but I didn’t know it was a gay bar!”

_Lies lies lies._

Eskild just looks at him, then nods.

“Okay.”

“I _didn’t_!” Isak says, and it’s high-pitched and kinda desperate, and once again he has the feeling that Eskild is just about to call him out. 

“Okay, jeez…” Eskild says raising his eyebrows, “…No need to get all testy, Baby J.”

“’m not testy.” He snaps back, and Eskild just shoots him a look, then goes back to looking at his phone. 

“…Maybe he’s hotter in real life. I’m gonna text him.”

“Sure.” Isak says blandly, turning back to his game and zoning out.

“…It says in his bio that he’s straight though. Just likes to suck dick for fun.” Eskild snorts a little laugh then continues. “…Two weeks, and you’re out of the closet. New beginnings baby.”

The last sentence draws Isak’s attention back to Eskild, and his body goes tense in a matter of milliseconds; heartrate picking up, as he looks over at Eskild, who’s standing up from the bed and smacking a kiss at his screen and – presumably – Grindr-guy.

Then Eskild leaves the room, leaving the door ajar behind him, and Isak just stares after him; heart still in his throat. The fact that Eskild smacked a kiss at the guy on his screen and not at _him_ should be relieving, but it’s not. It doesn’t make his heart slow down.

He tries going back to his game of FIFA, but he’s so high-strung and unfocused that he loses 0-5 to fucking Man U, so he quits, turning off his PlayStation and flopping down on his back in bed. His whole body buzzes as he stares up at the ceiling and he restlessly drums his fingers on the sheet, heart beating fast in his chest, and his body feeling so weirdly jacked-up that he considers actually going for a run or something. Run off the excess energy. Then he remembers Elias’s offer to join the gym, and grabbing his phone off his bedside table, he flips it in his hand while he thinks about the offer.

Fuck it.

He opens his Messenger conversation with Elias and types out a quick message.

* * *

**Elias Bakkoush**

**15:04**

Yo

Cool seeing you at New Year’s

When are you hitting the gym again?

Same, bro

So you finally wanna join me at the gym?

Is this a New year’s resolution thing or some shit?

Nah.

Just bored.

Haha okay. Was thinking of going today actually. Wanna join?

Sure.

Cool. I’ll ask around if the other guys want to join.

Ok.

You good with Tøyen fitness center in about an hour?

Yes.

See you there man.

* * *

Standing up from his bed, he walks over to his closet and digs out gym shoes, a pair of Nike football shorts and a t-shirt and throws everything in his gym bag. He’s about to zip the bag closed, when he gets the idea to change into shorts and a t-shirt now instead of in the locker room, effectively cutting down on the amount of time he has to spend in the gym locker room. Stripping out of his jeans and t-shirt, he changes into his gym clothes, then pulls a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on top, throwing a clean pair of boxers, socks and t-shirt into his gym bag for the way home, because he’s not wearing sweaty gym clothes home, even if it’s a relatively short walk from Tøyen back to Løkka. He’ll still take a locker room full of naked guys and communal showers over _that_.

Half an hour later, he’s out the door with his gym bag and a bottle of water and a “…going to the gym, bye” shouted in the general direction of Eskild’s and Linn’s doors. The front door closes shut behind him before Eskild finishes his “the _gym_? What the fu-“

Walking quickly towards Tøyen, he makes it about half-way to the gym before it hits him that Elias’ “ _I’ll ask around if the other guys want to join”_ could possibly include Even. The realization hits him so hard, that he for a second considers ditching the whole thing and do a 180 to return to kollektivet, because having to deal with seeing Even naked in a gym locker room? _Hard_ pass. He continues walking, albeit hesitantly, while he tries to rationalize the whole thing:

Okay, but Even doesn’t really seem like the type who goes to the gym, so. But then neither is _he_ , and yet he’s currently on his way to Tøyen Fitness center…When did Elias say Even was flying back to Tromsø. Today? Tomorrow? It couldn’t have been yesterday, cuz no one books a flight on 1 January. Could be today though. It’s a school day. Maybe Even took an early flight this morning to catch his afternoon classes. Or maybe an afternoon flight. Maybe he’s flying high over Oslo right now. Isak intuitively flicks his eyes up at the darkening January sky.

_Maybe._

∙

Walking in through the glass doors to the gym, he quickly sees Elias, Mutta and Mikael by the weight training area close to the entrance, and the relief that Even isn’t there; of not having to deal with seeing him sweaty and naked in a locker room, washes through him.

He nods at Elias, when he notices him and then buys a guest ticket before heading to the locker room to dump his gym bag. Inside the warm and damp locker room there’s an array of fit guys in different stages of undress, and as Isak turns to face his locker and pulls off his hoodie and sweats to reveal his Nike football shorts and a t-shirt underneath, he internally praises himself for the clever fucking move of changing into gym clothes at home. He toes out of his sneakers and into his gym shoes, locks his outerwear into the locker and then walks out, leaving the locker room and naked dudes behind.

Casually striding up to the free weights area, he greets Elias, Mikael and Mutta with hand slaps.

“Yo, Isak!” Elias and Mutta both say and Mikael smiles.

“Hey, bro. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Isak smiles back at all of them, then looks around at the kettlebells and dumbbells spread on the floor.

“…Cool of you to join, Isak. Took you long enough, though.” Elias smirks, picking up a large black dumbbell and starting on biceps curls. “…But okay, if I had a chick like yours, I’d be spending my time in her instead of in the gym, too…”

“… _In her_? Duuuude.” Mikael rolls his eyes at Elias’ lewd statement, while Mutta hollers an “oohhhh!” and slaps Elias’ free hand in a high-five.

“…Yeah, well.” Isak says, picking up a smallish, yellow dumbbell and mimicking Elias’ movement. “…She had other plans today, so.”

“Okay, okay, fair.” Elias smiles, “…you’re here to look good for her, then?”

”Sure.” Isak says.

_Let’s just go with that._

Elias nods and then chin-points at the dumbbell in Isak’s hand.

“4 kilos?”

“Uh…” Isak glances down at the weight. “…Yeah.”

“Well…” Elias shrugs, “…you gotta start somewhere, I guess…”

“For sure.” Mutta agrees with an encouraging nod at Isak before picking up a heavy-looking kettlebell and swinging it up from between his spread legs to mid-chest.

“…Yo, what the fuck is wrong with 4 kilos?” comes Mikael’s frowny comeback at Elias, and Isak smiles, taking a look at Mikael’s biceps which look about the same size as his own.

“…Nah, nothing, bro.” Elias assures Mikael, shaking his head with a smile as he looks down at his own arm curling up towards his chest. Then he looks between the three of them, “…let’s go for an hour, yeah?”

“Sure.” Isak says, putting down the yellow dumbbell and picking up a slightly heavier blue one, while Mikael goes for the yellow.

“So, we’ll do arms first, then squats and deadlifts…?” Elias asks in a way, that begs no discussion. “…Maybe a little cardio on the treadmill, then finish with the bench.”

Mutta nods in agreement while Mikael does a mock-salute at Elias.

“Sir, yes sir.”

Isak’s lips curl into a competitive smirk.

“Let’s go.”

∙

When the hour is up, Isak feels fucking worn _out_ ; the muscles in his arms, shoulders, abs and thighs burning, curls sticking wetly to the back of his neck. He gingerly sets the kettlebell down on the mat and lowkey curses his own competitiveness as he plops down on the floor to stretch.

In hindsight, trying to match Elias’ tempo on the treadmill and adding extra kilos to the barbell for squats and bench presses, was probably a bad idea if the burn in his thighs, glutes and upper body is anything to go by. But the ribbing from Elias and Mutta about him only benching 40 kilos had been relentless, so he’d huffed out a “add another fucking 5 kilos then!” from under the barbell and promptly done another 8 reps just to _not lose face_.

Now, leaning back on his hands to stretch his thighs while he watches Mutta spot Elias, he’d really wish he hadn’t though.

He watches for a few more moments; sees Mutta add extra weight to Elias’ barbell, and then he gulps down what’s left of his water bottle and slings his towel around his shoulders, gingerly getting up from the mat.

“…I’m beat, guys. Gonna hit the showers.”

It’s an announcement rather than an invitation; he half-hopes that the guys will decide to continue working out for a little while longer and that he’ll get a head start in the locker room.

“Yeah, me too, man.” Mikael agrees with a groan, setting his kettlebell down and there goes Isak’s head-start.

Elias pauses his reps at the bench to draw up his phone and check the time.

“…Hour is up, too. Let’s just call it a day.”

He crunches up and clasps Mutta’s outstretched hand to stand up from the bench, slinging his towel around his shoulders too and quirking a smile at Isak.

“Pretty good for your first time here, man.”

“Thanks.” Isak says back with a nod, appreciating the praise coming from the drill sergeant himself. “…I used to play football, so.” He offers in explanation. “…Haven’t played for a couple of years though.”

“Oh yeah? Which team?” Elias smiles, unscrewing the lid on his water bottle and taking a gulp.

“Kjelsås IL. Grefsen all the way, man.” Isak smirks, repping his old neighborhood and Elias gives him a fist bump, “’s a good team”.

“…I don’t know if it’s your old football form, but you’re definitely advancing much quicker than Mik.” Mutta jokes, making Mikael roll his eyes back at him as they all make their way towards the locker room.

“Whatever man, I prefer skating anyway.” Mikael shoots back, and it makes Isak smile; thinking about trying to coax Jonas into joining the gym next time. 

Inside the locker room they all strip down quickly, and Isak is mindful about keeping his eyes to himself. Pulling his damp t-shirt over his head, he finds new appreciation for the heavy fatigue in his body; it seems he has exactly zero stamina left, and he’s not sure he could even get hard right now if he wanted to. A locker room full of fit, naked guys still feels a little like tempting faith though, so he keeps his eyes on the floor tiles as he makes his way to the shower and steps under the hot water, closing his eyes as he scrubs his body and hair clean with complimentary shampoo from a dispenser on the wall.

The water pressure is better than in kollektivet, so he zones out for a couple of moments, letting the warm water beat down on his tired shoulders and wash away the last suds of shampoo. Elias’ voice faintly carries from the opposite shower wall.

“…you guys wanna go for a kebab or something?”

Isak opens his eyes to see Elias talking to Mutta and Mikael under the showers.

“Sure, man. Let’s pick up some food and go to our place and chill.” Mikael says back, rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

Elias nods. “Cool…Maybe call Even? See if he wants to hang before he leaves?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Mutta agrees, and the fact that Even is still in town makes a fluttering sensation settle in Isak’s stomach.

“…Yo, Isak, wanna join for kebab-and-chill at Mikael’s and Mutta’s place? It’s pretty close to here.” comes Elias’ question from across the room, and for a moment, Isak doesn’t know what to answer. The fluttering sensation grows stronger and his tired body straightens up a little under the spray of the shower.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” He finally says, because he’s fucking starving and he kinda, _definitely_ , wants to see Even again. Worst-case, like if it’s really awkward, he can always call it an early night, and take the shortish walk home to Løkka.

“Cool.” Elias smiles from the other end of the room and Isak shuts off the shower and then dries off before padding to his locker and taking out his gym bag with clean clothes.

At the prospect of seeing Even, he kinda regrets his outfit choices, but it’s not like, he has another change of clothes at hand, so sweatpants and the old black Public Enemy t-shirt he stuffed in his gym bag will have to do. At least it’s clean. And they’re just going for kebabs after all. Maybe Even won’t even join them. Maybe he’ll raincheck because he’ll rather spend his last day in Oslo with Sonja.

Isak’s stomach knots a little at the thought as he absentmindedly pulls on his hoodie.

“…Yo, you ready to go?” Mikael comes up to him - also dressed in sweats and a hoodie - and Isak nods, dumping his gym shoes and his damp workout clothes in the gym bag and shrugging into his jacket, toeing into his new Nike p-6000s, courtesy of his father.

“Yup. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

They make their way out of the gym, and Elias pulls up his phone as soon as they hit the pavement. 

“Just got a text back from Even.” He says, smiling at his screen. “He’ll meet us at the apartment. Said to buy food for him too.”

“Cool.” Mikael and Mutta both say, and Isak nods. “Yeah. Cool. Cool.”

They walk to a kebab place two streets over and pick up a bunch of food including a chicken kebab and fries for Even, and Isak welcomes the extra fifteen minutes while they wait for the food, to prepare for seeing Even again.

Then they receive their food in two large plastic bags and all four step out of the little kebab place to head for Mikael and Mutta’s place a few streets over.

The short walk makes Isak nervous, palms going clammy as he thinks about seeing Even again, and he tries to calm himself by thinking back to New Year’s two days ago. Seeing Even at Matheo’s had been chill. They’d talked a bit. Hung out on the balcony. Platonically. Not like that fucking sex dream, which was definitely _not platonic_. New Year’s had been _so_ platonic.

Even is already there, some 20 meters away when they round the next corner, and Isak swallows down sudden excess saliva, and tries to calm down. He briefly thinks about skipping out; telling the guys, that he just remembered he has to hand in a physics report tomorrow or something, but his feet carry him forward and all of a sudden, he’s right in front of Even.

“Hey, Ev.” Mutta says happily, slapping Even’s hand in greeting.

“Hey, guys.” Even smiles back, slapping Mutta’s hand, then Mikael’s and Elias’ and finally Isak’s. He doesn’t seem all that surprised to see Isak, so Isak guesses Elias maybe included him in the text. Or could be he just missed a possible look of surprise on Even’s face while thinking about blowjobs. 

Either way, Even doesn’t look surprised. Just smiles.

“…Yeah, look who decided to join us at the gym.” Elias smirks, gesturing at Isak, while Mikael unlocks the entrance door and they step inside and start up the stairs.

Even raises his eyebrows in slight surprise, and Isak guesses that he probably didn’t pick him for the gym type, either.

“ _The gym_? New Year’s resolution, or?” Even smiles as he glances up at Isak one step above him.

“Uh, nei. I don’t really do that. Resolutions.”

“Me neither.” Even says, “…always seemed weird to me, that you need a random date to make a change.”

“Mhmm.” Isak nods back, “…Exactly. Like, just fucking do it.”

Elias snorts and looks down at them from a few steps above.

“Uh, I asked you to join the gym like three months ago, Isak… _Just do it,_ my ass _…_ ”

“…Dude’s like the world’s laziest Nike rep…” Mutta supplies and it makes the whole stairwell ring with laughter.

“Brooooo! So fucking true.” Elias laughs a bit further up the stairs. 

Isak rolls his eyes up at them, trudging up the stairs. “Well, I came today didn’t I..”

“…All I’m saying is it took you long enough, man.” Elias says, and Isak catches Even’s smile out of the corner of his eye. It makes his lips pull into a smile on their own accord.

The last flight of stairs nearly kills him, his thighs burning with exertion when they _finally_ make it up to Mikael’s and Mutta’s apartment.

Isak follows the other guys into the living room, gym bags, sneakers and jackets landing everywhere on the floor. Then they all five plop down into two couches opposite each other with a large coffee table in the middle. Isak and Mikael in one couch and Even, Mutta and Elias in the other.

“Cool place.” Isak says, pulling up one leg under him and leaning forward a little bit, trying to stealthily stretch the front of his thigh.

“Yeah, thanks.” Mutta smiles from the other couch, leaning in to clear the coffee table with his arm to make room for the bags of food. “…We just moved in a little over a month ago.”

Isak nods, looking around at the large, bare apartment; the two couches, coffee table and a large flatscreen tv pretty much all there is in the living room. That and a stack of unopened moving boxes in one of the corners. There are three closed doors visible from where he’s sitting, so he guesses there are three rooms, just like in the kollektiv. Though one door _could_ lead to a bathroom. 

“Is it just the two of you here, or?” he says looking between Mikael and Mutta.

“For now, yeah.” Mikael nods, pulling up food from the bags and handing out kebabs, setting the five boxes of fries on the coffee table.

“…But we’re looking for another roomie, if you’re interested, bro…” Mutta smiles casually.

“Nah, I’m good.” Isak smiles back, “…Thanks though.” He accepts the kebab from Mikael and peels off the aluminum foil to take a bite.

“…I’d move in in a heartbeat if I had the dough.” Elias says to Mutta before taking a bite of his kebab. “…Living at home with my parents and Sana is hell.”

“I can’t imagine.” Isak says drily, and it makes the guys laugh.

“For real, my parents are always on my back, and Sana is, well. Sana.” Elias says with an eyebrow raise, and Isak nods in understanding. In all honesty though, he’d take living with the Bakkoushs over his own family any day.

“…So get a fucking job, man.” Mikael says, leaning forward to pick up a box of fries. “…If you wanna move out.”

“Yeah…” Elias says lazily, “but…”

“…Just do it.” Even smirks at Elias, then casts a conspiratorial side-glance over at Isak.

It makes Isak smile and agree with a smiley nod. “Just do it, man.”

Mutta and Mikael both start chanting, “just do it, just do it, just do it.”

“Yeah, yeah maybe…” Elias says half-heartedly before leaning forward to pick up his can of Coke from the coffee table and taking a long gulp.

“…Faen, guess we just found ourselves an even lazier Nike rep.” Mutta deadpans, and it makes Isak laugh, a feeling of easy contentment spreading in his gut. He leans back in the couch with his kebab and his can of Fanta happy he didn’t jump ship and ditched the guys. He can do this. Hang out with the guys and Even like they used to last year when he tutored them. Just _chill_. 

They all dedicate themselves to eat for a little while, before Elias speaks up again, smiling at Even.

“I’m actually a little surprised you came through tonight, bro.”

“Yeah? Why?” Even says back, frowning lightly in question as he pops another French fry in his mouth, licking the salt off his fingers.

“…Just thought you’d want to spend your last night in town with Sonja…” Elias shrugs casually, still munching on his kebab, and he’s completely oblivious to the way his words cause Isak to look up immediately, fast enough to catch Even’s split-second of hesitation before schooling his features into a smile.

“Nah, wouldn’t want to miss the chance of hanging with you guys before I go back north.”

“Awwww!” Mutta, Elias and Mikael coo in unison, making Even snort a little laugh.

“Too much, or?” Even says with a wide smile.

“No, man, you know we love you, too.” Mutta says genuinely, and Even nods back, lips pursed in a small smile. 

“…When are you flying back?” Isak asks, going for casual as he picks up his can of Fanta.

“Tomorrow morning.”  
Even does this little nod, like convincing himself it’s the right thing to do.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” Even says, but that’s also a little hesitant.

“ _Siste natt med gjengen_ *…” Mikael smiles, and it makes Even smile back in some sort of secret mutual understanding.

”Exactly.”

“…Fuck it, let’s make it count, then.” Mutta smirks, drawing up a ziplock bag of weed from behind a couch pillow.

∙

They spend the rest of the night sprawled lazily in the two couches in the living-room, getting high, listening to music, small-talking and playing FIFA, and it’s so fucking casual and easy that Isak forgets about his initial hesitation and doesn’t even check the time until Mutta yawns immensely, announcing to the group that everyone is welcome to stay, but he’s gonna go to bed. Early start tomorrow.

“Yeah, I should probably get going, too. My flight is at 8 am.” Even says, lazily stretching his arms over his head, the movement drawing Isak’s eyes to that pale strip of skin where his t-shirt is riding up.

He quickly averts his eyes and clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go too…I have biology at 8, and Sana will probably, y’know, _kill me,_ if I don’t show.”

“That’s Sana for ya.” Elias waves a hand in agreement and then turns to Mutta and Mikael with pleading eyes.

“Actually, can I crash here? Please? I’m too high to go home.”

“Sure, man.” Mikael smiles and Elias mumbles back a “ _shukran_ , bro.” collapsing back against the couch pillows.

Even smiles as he shrugs into his hoodie, then slap Elias’, Mutta’s and Mikael’s hands.

“Thanks for texting me today, guys. Really.”

“Of course, bro. It was good hanging with you before you go back up north.” Elias says, and Mikael and Mutta both nod in agreement.

“We’ll miss you tons, man.”

“Same.” Even smiles, and Isak picks up his discarded hoodie from the floor and shrugs into it when Elias smirks up at him,

“Yo Isak, same time Thursday?”

Isak pauses with one arm into the sleeve of the hoodie and quirks an eyebrow back at him. ”…You go to the gym _two times a week_?”

“Sometimes three,” Elias shrugs, “…You gotta work hard for this.” He rucks up his t-shirt to show off his abs.

“Sure, makes sense.” Isak says with a nod. Elias _is_ ripped.

“…So, you’re joining on Thursday, then?” Elias continues hopefully, and Isak resumes putting on his hoodie.

“ _Nei_. I’ve got school… and you know, _stuff_.”

“Right, _your girlfriend_. I see how it is…” Elias smirks, and Isak has no choice but to play along, so he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Does she by any chance have any single friends-”

“…Dude, she’s from ‘00.” Mikael says, effectively cutting Elias short.

“So?” Elias frowns.

“…’00s are not fair game, man.” is Mikael’s plain response.

“…I agree with Mik.” Mutta says with a solemn nod, “ ’99 is the limit.”

“Pfft…” Elias scoffs, “whatever…”

Mutta lifts his eyebrows at Elias.

“Dude, ’00s are younger than your sister.”

 _That_ makes Elias scrunch his nose up.

“Ew, why the fuck did you have to bring my sister into this…?”

“…Bro, I’m just saying, ’99ers that’s fine, but ‘00s that’s like jailbait…”

“I agree,” Even says, and the sound of his deep voice makes Isak look over at him.

“…’99ers are cool…” Even continues, meeting Isak’s eyes for a split-second, then stands up from the couch, looking down at Elias. “…But stay away from ‘00s, dude. They’re, like, _16_ , and you’re turning 20 in a couple of months…”

“So are you!” Elias says retorts, and Even smiles back at him, tilts his head. “Yeah. But I’m not fucking around with ‘00s…”

“Neither am I.” Elias pouts, and Even laughs back,

“Keep it that way, man.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Elias waves a hand at all of them, “…you guys have made your point. I’ll keep to ’99 and up.”

“Good boy.” Even says with a smirk, then toes into his sneakers and puts on his jacket, slaps the guys’ hands in another round of goodbyes, and Isak hurries to stand up from the couch.

His legs feel like jelly when he stands up; partly due to exertion and partly at the prospect of being alone with Even again, even if only for a few minutes on the street in front of Mikael’s and Mutta’s building, but he rallies. Ignoring the possibility of his shaky thighs giving out under him, he concentrates on putting on his sneakers and jacket, then slaps the guys’ hands in goodbye too and follows Even towards the door.

“…So, see you _next week_ in the gym then, Isak?” Elias calls out.

“Sure, man. Text me.” Isak shoots back over his shoulder.

“Will do. Goodnight.” Elias says back, and that’s the last Isak hears before he shuts the front door behind himself and follows Even down the stairs, gingerly going down, emitting a little “ow, ow.” on the last flight of stairs.

Even turns back to look at him.

“Sore from the gym?”

“Yeah, fuck.” Isak replies, reluctantly stepping out into the light drizzle of rain when Even opens the entrance door for him.

“…I fucking hate the gym.”

Even snorts a little laugh, “who doesn’t.”

“Elias.” Isak says plainly, and it makes Even laugh again.

“True. He lives for _the gains_.”

“Yup.” Isak pops the p, and Even’s laughter tapers into a chuckle, then a soft smile and a few moments of silence.

He takes a couple of slow steps backwards, eyes still locked on Isak’s.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home. Make sure you don’t pass out from exhaustion on the way.” There’s a glint of something playful there, and it makes Isak’s lips pull into a smile and his feet pick up the slack, catching up to Even.

“…Why does this feel like a déjà vu?”

“Maybe because it kinda is.” Even says plainly, casting a soft, smiling side-glance at Isak. “…Though you’re not shitfaced today, and you don’t have a broken wrist anymore.”

“True.” Isak says with a little nod, and they continue in silence for a few moments, Isak wondering whether Even is thinking back to what happened in the spring, too. Wondering if Even is ever going to tell him what happened with him. Why he left for Tromsø.

He zones out for a couple of moments, watching the pavement beneath him and it isn’t until Even is about to turn a corner heading towards the tram stop for the tram towards Grefsen, that he remembers that Even doesn’t know he moved out.

“Actually…” he says, slowing down his steps as they come nearer to the corner, “…I’m heading to Løkka. Not Grefsen.”

“Løkka?” Even asks, slowing his steps too. “…Going to Emma’s?”

“No.” He says back way too quickly, then glances up at Even. “…No, just. Home.”

“You don’t live in Grefsen anymore?”

“Uh, no. Moved out.”

“Oh. When, uh-?”

“In August.” Isak says, brain trying to decide what to tell Even, if anything. Even just looks at him, eyes wide and so blue, lips parted a tiny bit.

“I, uh, live in a kollektiv with two roommates now. In Løkka. It’s chill.” Is what Isak settles on. Trying to convey that it’s all good. Or. Better at least.

“Okay.” Even finally nods, dropping his eyes to the ground. “That’s…” he rolls his bottom lip in. “…Chill is good.”

“Yeah. It is.” Isak says simply, and they continue walking straight ahead in the general direction of Løkka.

It’s a pretty short walk to kollektivet, and they end up covering it mostly in silence; the easy vibes from hanging out with the guys long gone and replaced by a loaded silence. Isak catches Even giving him a side-glance more than once, but none of them say anything.

His feet carry him forward automatically, and Even follows.

Finally, they reach Deichmans gate 5, and Isak stops on the pavement in front of the entrance door, sucking in a breath.

“This is me.”

Even nods, looking up at the façade for a second before meeting Isak’s eyes again. “Looks nice.”

“Yeah. It is.” Isak smiles softly. “So, uh, anyway thanks for walking me home…”

“No worries.” Even smiles back, and once again the silence between them is heavy, loaded with something Isak can’t quite place. Then it hits him. It feels a bit like another déja-vu, though there’s no gravel driveway leading up to his childhood home this time, no lights flicking on, no one to _catch them_.

“I’m, uh…” Even says, deep voice trailing off. Then he turns his face away and rolls his lip in in thought, and Isak watches his profile, lit up by the streetlight, and the way his jaw clenches for a moment.

“Hm?” he asks, voice a little shaky, palms going clammy in the pockets of his winter jacket at the prospect of Even bringing up the last time they stood in front of Isak’s home to say goodbye.

He doesn’t. Instead drops his eyes to the wet asphalt for a moment, then flicks them back up at Isak.

“…I should get going. Early flight and all that…”

“Sure.”

Isak sucks in a breath, then looks at Even. “Do you, um…”

Even looks at him patiently, and Isak notices how his cheeks are a little flushed from the cold. It makes him want to touch.

“…Do you think you’ll ever want to return to Oslo?” he finally asks, swallowing as he braces himself for the answer. Either one.

Even looks at him for a couple of long moments, then he smiles a tiny, soft smile.

“I think I will, yeah.”

“Okay.” Isak nods, shaky voice carrying off on an inhale and he drops his eyes to the wet asphalt to have a steady focus point while his heart flutters wildly in his chest. 

“… _Just do it_ , right?” Even says, and when Isak looks back up at him, there’s a playful glint in his eyes.

“Just do it.” Isak agrees, lips quirking into a smile.

Even nods to himself but keeps his eyes on Isak, a tiny smile playing at his lips, and Isak holds his gaze for a few moments, but then it becomes too intense, so he drops his eyes to the ground again, focusing on Even’s sneakers instead.

Nikes like himself, but Air Jordans.

Another few moments of silence and then Even speaks softly.

“I should really get going…” He pulls up his phone to check the time, “…I have to be at the airport in 6 hours.”

Isak nods, eyes on the asphalt between their sneakers.

“You should go.”

“See you, Isak.” Even says, and it’s light and certain like a “ _see you next week, man_.” and when Isak looks up, he’s already taking a couple of steps backwards, smiling at him before he turns around and walks down the street, putting on a pair of headphones.

Isak looks at him for a couple of moments, then turns around and unlocks the entrance door and gingerly makes it up the stairs.

He shrugs out of his damp jacket and his sneakers and then goes to his room, grabbing his laptop and plopping down in bed. It’s hella late but he flips the lid up anyway; opens a new google search and starts typing.

_"How to come out if you’re gay"_

Just fucking do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Siste natt med gjengen_ is the Norwegian title of the George Lucas’ film American Grafiti and translates to ”Last night with the gang”, but this reference is lost on everyone else than the film buffs Even and Mikael, lol.


	17. Sky

Morning comes way too soon and as Isak slowly blinks his eyes open at the sound of his 7am alarm, he feels sore and heavy in more ways than one. One: the simple movement of engaging his abs to sit up in bed has him almost whimpering in pain; the full effect of going too hard at the gym yesterday setting in _big time_. Two; the thought that Even is probably at Gardermoen right now about to board a plane going 1750 kilometers north and with no return ticket makes his heart sink, and three: spending most of last night on Quora reading different people’s coming out stories, he hadn’t closed his laptop until around 4 am after reading a particularly brutal “ _my-family-has-kinda-disowned-me-and-my-old-friends-won’t-have-anything-to-do-with- me_ ” one. He’d finally put the laptop down on the floor then and burrowed under the covers for warmth and comfort, but even after reading between 50 and 100 coming out stories in total, most of them actually quite hopeful and positive, that last one was the one that echoed. On top of everything his phone had beeped with a new message just after 4 am, and he’d reached out with shaky fingers, for a second thinking it would be Even. It wasn’t. Just his mom. Something about sinners. The usual.

Sleep hadn’t found him easily.

Everything hurts when he lifts the duvet and gets out of bed as gingerly as he can. He pads slowly to the kitchen for a bowl of sugary cereal before he even considers the shower. He feels a little nauseated, but he knows he needs the energy, muscles throbbing in a dull ache. 

“Mornin’. You okay?” 

Eskild is already perched on a chair, short, open satin robe leaving little to the imagination. At least he’s wearing boxers. 

“Mm.” 

It’s noncommittal as he carefully lowers himself onto a chair, trying not to grimace in pain as he pours out a bowl of cereal. His abs, pecs, biceps, triceps, _everythings_ hurt.

Eskild’s eyes flit over him, “are you in pain?”

“Uh no.” Isak scrunches his nose up, then concedes. “Or yeah. Gym…”

“Oh, right, you went to the gym yesterday…” Eskild’s eyes lose the worry and sparkle with mirth instead.

“What’s so funny?” he snaps back testily. 

“Nothing.” Eskild shakes his head with a smirk, “…just thought you were too busy with FIFA and Netflix and getting high to actually…” he gestures to Isak’s body, “…work out that scrawny teenage body of yours.”

He’s about to scoff back something like _I’m not scrawny, what the fuck?_ but he guesses he kinda is. At least compared to Elias and Mutta and even Jonas and Magnus.

“Yeah well, I’m full of surprises.” He deadpans instead, shoveling in another spoonful of cereal.

“Sure are, Baby J.”

He can feel Eskild looking at him, so he pulls up his phone to avoid conversation, but Eskild isn’t backing down. 

“You look a little pale, though. Everything okay?”

“Uh, didn’t sleep so well,” he murmurs back.

“Really? Judging by how you barely lift the spoon to your mouth without whimpering, I’d have thought that workout would’ve knocked you right out.” Eskild lifts his cup of tea to his lips, and slurps loudly.

Isak focuses on the little tag on the teabag. English breakfast. Then he shrugs for a reply, even the tiny motion of pulling a shrug makes the muscles in his chest hurt. Pathetic. He should work out more. 

“…Something on your mind keeping you from falling asleep?” Eskild says, lowering the teacup. His face open, patient. 

It makes Isak recall the words he said to him 2 days ago:

_“Let me know if you ever want to talk, Issy.”_

He croaks out an “uh…”, for a split-second unsure if his mouth is going to betray him and blurt something out. Something like “ _there is someone I like. A guy. I like a guy._ ” He’s so tired and sore, he feels like everything inside him is about to cave; every last piece of resistance starting to give up on him. 

He shovels in a quick spoonful of cereal, murmurs out around a mouthful of Kellogg’s Frosties. 

“Uh, nah. Just couldn’t fall asleep…”.

“Okay.” Eskild says with a nod and takes another slurpy sip of tea. 

Isak finishes the rest of his bowl of cereal scrolling on his phone with his left hand, trying to focus on mindless Facebook-posts. Then he gingerly stands up, sets his empty bowl in the sink, and picks up his backpack and his hoodie. With a curt “see you later,” he’s out the door and heading to school. 

He steps into the Nissen schoolyard at 8:01 and quickly makes his way to the A-building for biology class. Before pushing the door open, he looks up at the sky. 

Too cloudy to see planes. 

∙

Emma catches him by his locker just before lunch, and the fact that a quick peck on the cheek makes his stomach lurch convinces him that he has to break up with her. Like, asap. He should’ve broken up with her before Christmas, or definitely before New Year’s. 

“What are you doing after school?” She smiles, and he grabs the opportunity.

“Uh, nothing. Wanna come over to my place?”

“Okay.” She nods happily and gives him another kiss before hoisting her tote bag over her shoulder and walking down the corridor with a “see you later.”

∙

A couple of hours later, he’s back at kollektivet wiping his slightly clammy palms on his thighs while he waits for Emma to come up the stairs. 

He’s not nervous per se about breaking up with her; it’s just that he’s _shit_ with confrontations. It’s awkward as fuck, and he really just wants to get it over with.

Her footsteps get louder and he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for it. He knows he’s being an asshole dumping her, but well, dating her for over a month, skipping out of sex with lame excuses and being the world’s most inattentive boyfriend is even more of a _drittsekk_ move. He _knows_ that. Breaking up with her is definitely the right thing to do. And maybe, like, she’ll agree? She’s bound to know _something_ is up. Right? No one can be that oblivious. But okay, what if she is? As she climbs further up the stairs, he thinks about what kind of reason for breaking up can he give her. Not the real reason, obviously; can’t tell her that every time they make out, he’s thinking about somebody else. That most of his waking hours, he’s thinking about someone else. Nope. She’ll just ask _who_ , and he still feels so tired and raw he’s too afraid he’ll reveal himself. And there’s no way he’s risking her going around telling the whole school he’s _a fag_ in a bout of bitterness over being dumped. 

So, he decides to keep it vague. Vague will have to do. 

“Hey!” She smiles happily when she reaches the landing and walks towards the door. 

Isak swallows drily and gives her an awkward nod. 

“Hey. Come in.”

She takes off her jacket and boots and follows him to his room, where he gets straight to the point. Just fucking do it, right? 

“I think we should break up. I don’t see this working out. For any of us.”

Her eyes go wide, and for a moment he callously thinks, _really?_ _did you_ really _not see this coming?_

Then her eyes well up with tears, and the guilt he’s hit with surpasses his thoughts of her obliviousness. He didn’t even know she was that into him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, drawing her into a hug and letting her rest her cheek on his shoulder while she cries and then tapers off into sniffles. 

She finally draws back with a nod. Wipes away the tears with her fingertips.

“I just don’t understand…”

“I’m sorry.” He says again but doesn’t know how to continue. How the fuck do you even break up with someone. “…I just don’t think we’re gonna work out...” 

“…You’re not in love with me,” she supplies, looking up at him, and he presses his lips together. Nods.

“Are you into someone else?”

“Um.”

There’s the feeling of resistance just about to crumble again, and he swallows drily.

“…Um, no.” It’s weak as hell, and of course she picks up on it.

It prompts another round of sniffles, but to his major relief she doesn’t ask who. Just steps back and almost aggressively puts on her sweater. 

“You know what? You’re a drittsekk, Isak.”

He nods. He _is._

“…I can’t believe I ever fell for you.”

“No.” He says back, at a loss for words and dropping his gaze to the floor. He’s _so_ fucking bad at this.

She leaves his room and then out the front door, slamming it shut behind her with a loud bang, and he flops down on his bed, feeling a little riled up on adrenaline, a lot tired from not really sleeping last night, but mostly he feels relieved. So fucking relieved. Now he just needs to come up with an excuse for why he broke up with _the hottest chick at school_. Mahdi’s words. Preferably fast before rumors start spreading. 

He flops onto his stomach and pulls his phone up, about to compose some bogus excuse to the group chat when Eskild walks in, jerking his thumb at the door. 

“Your girlfriend?”

“Not anymore.” He deadpans, and it makes Eskild crack a smile before clearing his throat and schooling his features into something faux-solemn.

“So, are you okay?”

He settles down on bed next to him, and Isak sits up, sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

“Uh, yeah. Fine.”

Eskild nods.

“What happened?”

“I, uh. Broke up with her.”

“Huh,” Eskild says, looking down at Isak’s sheet, clearly searching for words. “Sorry…?” he then says looking up at Isak, and it’s so insincere, that it almost makes Isak laugh.

“Nah, it’s okay.” 

“Okay.” Eskild smiles back. “I’m glad you’re not all heartbroken, Isak.” He continues with a smirk, “…cuz it’s your clean-up week, so.”

“Hah, no, I’m okay. Or, I mean, if it gets me out of cleaning duty…” Isak sasses back, but Eskild doesn’t buy it.

“Nope.”

“Okay. Worth a shot.” Isak smirks back, and there’s a moment of silence between them. Eskild then puts both his hands on his own thighs, about to get up from the bed, when Isak feels a sudden surge of adrenaline. 

_Just fucking do it._ _No time like the present. New beginnings._ All of the fucking clichés. 

“Uh, Eskild?” he says, looking down at where he’s wringing his hands in his lap to focus on something other than the way his heart starts pounding, rattling his ribcage. 

“Yeah?” Eskild looks back at him.

“Um…” He draws in a breath. “…I wasn’t really, like, in love with her.”

“No?”

“No, uh...”

He’s focusing on the pale blue stripe of his duvet. The only bedding he brought with him when he moved out 5 months ago. Has he even washed it since moving into kollektivet? Fuck it. 

He looks up at Eskild.

“I’m... I don’t, uh…” 

To Eskild’s credit he doesn’t rush him. Just looks at him, while he’s struggling for words.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“There’s someone else I, uh, _like_.” 

“Okay?” Eskild smiles. “Who’s that?”

“It’s uh...” 

_Just fucking do it, do it, do it._

“…His name is Even.” The words come out so quickly, he almost stumbles over them. And then he has to take a breath before looking up at Eskild for his reaction.

“Yeah? Even? That’s great, Isak.” Eskild’s smile is warm, forthcoming, and it makes Isak release where he has apparently balled up the duvet in his fist without even noticing.

“Yeah, or, uh. I don’t know…” he breathes, not quite feeling the elation. 

“Does he like you back?” Eskild smiles. 

“I don’t know.“

“Okay.”

“…Also, he has a girlfriend, so.” Isak says quietly. 

Eskild grimaces for a second.

“What?” asks Isak.

“No, nothing.” Eskild smiles at him. “I think it’s great that you’ve found someone you like, Isak.”

He nods slightly in reply, fidgets to adjust the snapback over his curls. Then he sucks in a breath. “I’m… I mean, I… I’m…” The words stick in his throat like molasses.

“You’re… gay?” Eskild says gently, and it immediately makes Isak snap in pure reflex.

“No!”

“No? Okay, that’s cool, Isak. You don’t have to fit a label to-” Eskild continues talking, but Isak zones out for a moment, thinks about the text his mom sent last night. 

_Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts._

He nervously swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“Uh, no, I think I am. That.” He finally says, looking up and cutting Eskild short. 

“Gay?” Eskild says.

His heart pounds so hard, he can feel it in his ears, in his throat, and his cheeks flush violently. He nods a short affirmative. “Yeah. Or, fuck, I don’t know.”

Eskild looks at him calmly. “Okay.”  
His lips split into a warm smile, as he nods in understanding. “…Okay. Like I said, you don’t have to fit a label…”

“…Well, it’s just that I’m not like _gay_ gay.” He says back, a little defiantly. 

“ _Gay gay_?” Eskild frowns slightly. “What’s _gay gay_?”

“Like, um. Pride and all that stuff. Rainbow flags. Queer Eye. Grindr. Like, I’m not... That’s not me.”

“Okay…?” Eskild says, his voice a little different. A little testy. 

“Yeah, so.” Isak finally says, heart pounding in his chest.

Eskild looks back at him for a few long moments, then he nods to himself. 

“You do you, Isak. But I wouldn’t put myself above _Pride and all that stuff_ , if I were you.” He levels Isak with a look, then opens the door. “But thanks for telling me. Really.”

Isak nods, and then Eskild is shutting the door behind him, and Isak stares at the door. Then he turns on his PlayStation starting up a game of FIFA to think about something else. Anything but the fact that he just came out to his _gay_ gay roommate. 

∙

The next day he manages to tell the guys about breaking up with Emma before the word is out at school, but only by circa twelve hours.

They’re hanging out in his room in kollektivet, after school, having just finished a pretty heated FIFA tournament. Passing the bong Jonas brought between them. 

He lets it slip off-handedly while casually accepting the bong from Jonas for the third time. 

“So, I uh, broke up with Emma yesterday…” He takes a deep inhale before pursing his lips, attempting to blow out smoke rings.

Silence. Then Magnus’ slightly bloodshot eyes go wide.

“ _Seriously_? You broke up with Emma? _Why_?” 

Isak shrugs in reply, passing the bong to Mahdi and adjusting his snapback. “Didn’t work out.”

“Why the fuck not?! She’s hot…?”

Another shrug. He’s starting to feel really mellow from the weed, silently praising how Jonas is always good for some seriously solid kush. Mikael’s probably. 

“…Don’t know. We just didn’t really click, or whatever. You know?”

“Uh, nei.” Magnus says, shaking his head lightly. “I honestly don’t, _I’ve_ never had a girlfriend. Like, how do you even know you _click_?”

It makes Jonas and Mahdi snort a laugh. 

“You just _know_ , dude.” Jonas smirks, accepting the bong back from Mahdi. 

Isak nods in agreement.

 _You just know_.

“You know, man, when you like the same shit…” Mahdi supplies, trying to enlighten Magnus. “…and you _get_ each other.”

“Huh.” Magnus says, thinking. “Vilde and I click, I think.”

“There you go.” Jonas says, waving a hand at Magnus.

“I’m gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.” Magnus smiles. “…I feel there is something there.”

“Sure, Mags.” Jonas says with a smile while Mahdi nods. 

“I can see it, bro.”

“…Emma likes Justin Bieber.” Isak says plainly albeit stoned as hell.

“Oi.” Jonas snorts a laugh, and Isak quirks a lazy, crooked smile at him. “I know right?”

“…So that’s why you broke up with her? Because she likes Bieber?” Magnus asks, eyes squinted in thought.

“Yeah. Or, _no_. Nah, man, we just didn’t click.” He says leaning back against his bed, dropping his head back. Shit, he’s so high. 

“I’m just surprised it wasn’t _her_ dumping _your_ ugly ass.” Mahdi smirks, but Isak doesn’t take the bait. He’s too mellow. Just shrugs lazily, lips pulling into another slow smile. 

“Whatever, man …”

“Hey, maybe Isak is really good in bed? Have you thought about that?” Magnus says jokingly to Mahdi. 

“Nah bro, I haven’t, you’re the only one around here who thinks about your friends like that…”

“I don’t!”

Isak zones out as Mahdi continues ribbing Magnus, and then the guys launch into talking about _skills in bed_ and _going down on chicks_ and _g-spots_. 

For a moment the thought of telling them that he has never actually had sex with Emma or Sara or any girl really, floats by. That all he ever thinks about is guys; one guy in particular actually. He thinks about _coming out to them_ for a total of 2 seconds, then it’s gone. 

He closes his eyes instead and flops down on the floor.

He’s so fucking high. 

∙

∙

A couple of days later, he’s no closer to coming out to the guys. The news that Emma is single and that he broke up with her is all over school, and when he overhears some first-year guys talking on his way to class he starts stressing, pulling the hood of his hoodie up over his snapback. 

“…Why would anyone dump _Emma_? I mean if she was my girlfriend…”

“Yeah, bro, she’s hot. Maybe that dude’s gay or something…” 

He slinks along the wall of the corridor, feeling uneasy as hell. Reading “ _what was the worst reaction you got when you came out?”_ on Quora last night wasn’t exactly productive either, but still, he couldn’t stop reading. He wants to be prepared for everything, even the possibility of his friends ditching him. He needs to come out before the rumors out him. 

He feels jittery and weird all through English class, physically jumping in his seat when his phone buzzes against his thigh. Jonas side-eyes him as he picks up his phone, sliding the screen open.

* * *

**Elias Bakkoush**

**14:21**

Yo Isak, gym today?

* * *

He hides the phone under the table and quickly types out a reply, cuz honestly that message couldn’t have come at a better time. He desperately needs to work out some of the fucking tension in his body.

* * *

**Elias Bakkoush**

Sure. What time? I’m done with class at 15:00

16:30? That good with you?

Yup. See you later.

👊

* * *

“What’s up man? Why were you texting under the table?” Jonas asks him with a frowny smile a couple of minutes later during pair work. 

“Uh, nothing. Just going to the gym with Elias later. You should join.” 

“Nah man, I’m not into the whole gym thing.” Jonas smiles back and Isak pulls a shrug. 

“Mikael will probably be there too. He’s not that big on the gym, either. Just come and hang out, bro.”

Jonas thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, okay. Sure. I’ll join. This once.”

“Cool.” Isak smiles. “16:30 at Tøyen Fitness Center.”

“Deal,” Jonas says and then looks down at his worn copy of Hamlet courtesy of the school library. 

“So uh, did you read for today…”

“Not a single page, man.” 

“Same. Let’s just-”

“Yeah, we’ll wing it.”

∙

After class he claps Jonas’ hand in goodbye outside Nissen and they part ways with a “see you in little over an hour man” and then he takes the tram home to pick up his gym bag and change into shorts and a t-shirt just like last time. He pulls on sweatpants and a hoodie over his gym clothes and then he moves to the kitchen to fill up a water bottle and kill the 15 minutes before he has to leave. 

Eskild strolls into the kitchen while he’s half-heartedly searching his shelf in the fridge for a pre-workout snack. 

“Going out? Pretty casual attire, even for you baby J.” 

Isak closes the fridge empty-handed. 

“Gym.”

“Seriously? Wow.” Eskild eyes him from where he leans against the kitchen counter. 

“Yup.” 

He takes a gulp of his water bottle, too tired and preoccupied to come up with any sort of witty comeback as to why he’s willingly subjecting himself to that again. 

“Alone or?”

“No, with Jonas and, uh, _some guys_ …”

“Even?” Eskild says casually, moving to open the fridge, and it makes Isak flick his eyes up at him, heart skipping a beat. Right. Eskild _knows_.

“Uh. No. Some of his friends though.”

“Okay. But who is this Even? Does he go to Nissen too?” Eskild asks, taking out a cheese from the fridge and a piece of bread from an open pack of toast on the counter. 

“Uh, no. He’s… I don’t know.”

 _An acquaintance. A friend of an acquaintance. Some guy I tutored a few times almost a year ago_. 

He pulls a shrug. 

“…He’s in Tromsø right now anyway.”

“Tromsø?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would anyone go to Tromsø willingly? Here I’m assuming he’s not being like, held against his will…” Eskild makes a weird grimace, and it makes Isak quirk a smile.

“…Pretty sure he’s not being held against his will. I saw him the other day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. At New Year’s. And the other day. I hung out with him and his friends after the gym.”

“Okay.” Eskild says. “…sounds like you guys are seeing a lot of each other.”

“Not really. Before New Year’s I hadn’t seen him in like 8 months or something. April.”

“Okay.” 

Isak pulls his phone up to check the time. 16:12.

“I should get going. I‘m meeting Jonas at the gym.”

“Right.” Eskild nods. “…Try not to go so hard this time that you come home with a limp.”

“Yeah yeah.” 

He pushes off the counter and grabs his water bottle. 

“…I’m just saying, if you want a limp and pain every time you sit down, there are more fun ways…”

“Bye Eskild!” He turns around, half-filled water bottle in hand, and bolts for the corridor, picking up his gym bag on the way and slamming the door shut behind him. 

He’s a little flushed when he makes it to the bottom of the stairs pushing the entrance door open with his shoulder. 

∙

Ten minutes into the gym session, it’s clear that he has learnt exactly _zero_ since last time. 

“C’mon Isak, you can do 5 more. Let’s go, up up up!” Elias motivates him drill-sergeant style from where he spots him by the bench, and Isak pushes himself, blowing away a stray curl as he presses the barbell up another five times with something between a whine and a groan. It burns like hell, but he manages. Focuses on the fluorescent light directly above his head, on just _pushing_. 

“Nice work, bro!” Elias fist bumps him after he has set the barbell in the rack and Isak crunches back up from the bench with a “yeah, thanks.” 

He takes a few deep breaths and draws a hand through his sweaty curls to push them off his forehead, then he grabs the hem of his white t-shirt rustling it a bit to peel it off his damp back. Standing up, he picks a jump rope up from the floor. _No breaks._

Jonas looks over at him from where he’s standing next to Mikael, half-heartedly deadlifting a kettlebell in a faded Wu-Tang t-shirt. 

“Shit, going full-on Rocky now, Issy K?”

“Hey, at least I’m actually _working out_ , man.” He sasses back, starts on easy skip jumps.

“Honestly dude, I don’t even know what I’m doing here.” Jonas says. “…I’ll take skating over this shit any day.” 

“I know right?” Mikael huffs out. 

“100 % man.” Jonas nods, “I’m just here cuz Issy made me.”

“Same here, bro. Elias.” Mikael jerks his head towards Elias in the other end of the room chatting up a fit blond chick. 

“ _What_? I didn’t _make_ you...” Isak scoffs in reply at Jonas, who snorts back a laugh.

“Nah you’re right, I’m just here to witness your Rocky transformation. Want me to photo document it for you, man?”

Isak flips him off in response and then does four double tempo jumps just to show off. 

“Yo, by the way, skating is a workout too, you know.” Mikael pipes up, still swinging a kettlebell albeit half-heartedly and Isak quirks an eyebrow, slows down his jumps into normal tempo again. 

“Really?” he manages breathily but sarcastic.

“Yeah.” Jonas backs Mikael with a nod, “…you use your core muscles to control your body and stay on the board. And to pick up speed.”

“Exactly.” Mikael nods in agreement.

“…I mean, if you’re actually _riding_ your board, like Mik and me… and not just chillin’ at the top of the bowl.” Jonas then smirks, making Isak roll his eyes at the slight jab. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever, man.”

“Speaking of…” Jonas says, turning to look at Mikael, “…wanna hit the skate park tomorrow?”

“Sure, man.” Mikael smiles back, pausing to wipe sweat away with the back of his hand.

“Cool.” Jonas smiles back and sets the kettlebell down to pick up a 4-kilo yellow dumbbell, and Isak quirks a smile at both of them. The strong fucking sympatico there. Even was so right in seeing it, the first time they ever hung out together in the skate park almost a year ago; Jonas and Mikael are basically the same person.

∙

“Yo, you boys joining Mik and me for kebab?” Elias asks, when they’re all newly showered and dressed, walking out of the gym. 

“Sure, I’m down.” Jonas says just as Isak nods. 

“Yup. I’m starving.”

“That’s because you’re building muscles, man.” Elias says, slapping a flat hand at Isak’s sore abs. Thankfully the soft hoodie cushions the blow.

“I’m sure you know it takes more than two times at the gym to build muscles…Or…” He tilts his head sassily, “…actually maybe you _don’t_ , seeing as you didn’t take biology at Bakka…” 

“Jeez bro, you’re definitely spending too much time with Sana.” Elias smirks back. “…Sure, it takes more than _two times at the gym to build muscles_ …” he parodies Isak, “…but it’s a start, bro.”

“Sure.” Isak concedes with a smile and doesn’t tell Elias that he’s not really there to _build muscles,_ that he just like tiring himself with endless repetitions to keep from thinking about shit. 

15 minutes later they all four heavily plop down in a little booth at the kebab place waiting for their food. It’s another 10 minutes before their food arrives, and Isak shifts into impatient hangry mode while they wait for the food.Elias jokingly snaps a photo of him brooding. 

Elias laughs at his screen, showing the picture to Jonas and Mikael who both crack up too. 

“Look at you, man!” Elias laughs showing Isak his phone and Isak looks at himself on Elias’ screen for a total of 1 second before rolling his eyes with a “whatever.”

“Shit, Isak. Diva.” Elias snickers and taps around on his phone before pocketing it and turning to Jonas with an ill-concealed smirk.

“Dude always like this, when he’s hungry?” 

“Yeah.” Jonas nods, “…ever since we were kids. You should see him _drunk_ and hungry, though…”

“Oi.” Elias says and Isak rolls his eyes again, leaning back in the seat and praying for the food to arrive before he fucking _ends_ Elias. 

∙

Half an hour later, after consuming a kebab and a bunch of fries, he’s amicably clapping Elias’ and Mikael’s hand in goodbye outside the kebab place, and with a “see you next week, man,” they’re off, leaving him and Jonas under the yellow streetlight.

Jonas jerks his head at where they’ve left their bikes and Isak follows him and unlocks his bike next to Jonas’. Standing back up, he winds his dark-blue scarf tighter around his neck and zones out for a few seconds looking at Jonas clasping the chest strap of his backpack over his chest.

“What, man?” Jonas smiles, and Isak snaps out of it and swallows around a sudden dryness in his throat. 

“Uh, do you wanna come back to my place and play FIFA or something? It’s still early?” 

“Sure.”

Jonas’ smile is reassuring, and Isak nods and straddles his bike, kicking off and starts towards kollektivet before he loses his nerve. 

∙

“What the hell, man?” Jonas smiles at the screen from where he’s sitting in Isak’s bed, PlayStation controller in hand. “…You’re not even giving me any competition here.”

Isak swallows, looks at Jonas instead of the screen where he’s spectacularly losing the third match in a row. 

“Uh. Nei. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, man…” Jonas smiles, casting him a side-glance but what he sees apparently makes him pause the game and turn to look at him properly. “…What’s up? Is it something with your mom-?”

“Uh, no. Not my mom.” Isak sucks in a breath. “Just…”

“Just what?” Jonas says, but it’s soft. Patient.

Isak looks at him for a second before dropping his gaze to his lap.

“You know how I broke up with Emma?”

“Yeah?”

 _So_ patient, even when Isak takes a couple moments to get the next words out. 

“…I wasn’t really, uh. Into her.”

“No?” Jonas says gently, barely pitching his voice into a question.

“No. I’m not, uh…” 

He swallows down a lump in his throat. Still can’t really say the words. 

“…There’s um, somebody else I like.” 

“Yeah?” Jonas smiles. “Who?”

“Um.” He bites his lip, looking down at his own lap again. “…It’s um. Not a girl.” 

He flicks his eyes up at Jonas, bracing himself for the reaction.

“No?” Jonas just says casually, like he’s not even surprised. “…Is it, uh, Even?”

“Uh. Um.”

Hearing Even’s name from Jonas’ lips was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. It punches the air out of him, his heart going wild in his chest, in his ears, blood rushing to flush his cheeks in beginning panic.

“…You, uh-, you _knew_?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Jonas says with a shrug and a gentle smile. 

“Oh,” Isak says back with a weak nod, and it’s barely a word, more like a huff of air coming out while his mind spirals with panicky thoughts about whether Jonas knowing about him liking guys means that _everyone_ knows? Is his crush on Even so obvious that everyone knows? Does Even? He starts to feel lightheaded at the thought. No, no no no. 

“You okay, Issy?” 

Jonas puts a warm hand on his shoulder, and it makes him notice that he’s hyperventilating.

“Uh, I don’t-, I just…”

“What?”

“…Like, does everyone know? About me?” His voice is thin, barely there.

“About…”

“That I’m…” he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, white spots forming all over his clamped eyelids. “…That I’m… gay…?” 

Saying the word punches the remaining air out of him.

“No man, not unless you’ve told them? No one knows anything, Issy,” Jonas reassures him, squeezing his shoulder a little. “Is, you need to breathe. It’s fine. You’re okay.”

He nods back weakly and takes a couple of deep breaths. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Jonas keeps his hand on his shoulder and eventually he calms down. 

“So, uh. Even?” Jonas says after a few moments of silence, lips quirking into a little smile. “…You’re into him?”

Isak exhales a long breath. “Yeah. Yes.”

Jonas nods knowingly, the little smile on his lips spreading wider. 

“Yeah, he’s, uh, attractive.”

“ _What_?” Isak can’t help snorting a little laugh in relief. 

Jonas pulls a casual shrug. Smiling at him.

“I don’t know what to say, man. I mean, he’s cool. Handsome too. I get it.”

“ _He’s attractive_?” Isak mimics Jonas’ voice, holding back a smile.

“Yeah, man! I mean, he is.” Jonas says adamantly, and Isak nods with a smile. Drops his gaze to his hands resting in his lap. 

“You _get it_.”

“I do.” Jonas smiles, and there it is. His best friend gets him.

Isak smiles softly, then looks down at where his fingers are fiddling with a corner of the duvet.

“But um, do you think Magnus and Mahdi, uh…”

“I think they’ll be cool, man.” Jonas says surely. “…I mean Mags is Mags, y’know.”

“Right.”

“…But I think they’ll be cool. And you know…” 

Isak looks up at him. 

“…I’ve got your back, Iss. Always.”

“Thanks.” He nods, cheeks still a little warm. “Really, that’s...”

“Don’t thank me, man. You’re my best friend.” Jonas smiles back casually, then leans back against the pillows behind his back. 

There are a few moments of silence between them, and Isak notices how Jonas draws his eyebrows together. He’s about to ask Jonas what’s up when Jonas looks back at him a little hesitantly. 

“But um… Even…” 

“Mhmm? What about him?” Isak says trying to sound casual while his heart rate picks up again.

“Is he-, I mean, he’s with Sonja, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He swallows thickly, tries to quell the unwelcome mental images of Even and Sonja together. 

“Does he, um, know-“

“No. No no.” Isak gives a quick shake of his head, trying to convey that he’d prefer it stay that way. 

“Okay.” Jonas nods, mostly to himself and then he looks back at Isak, lips pulling into an easy smile.

“…One more match?”

He chin-points at the paused game of FIFA on the tv screen, and Isak leans back beside him, allowing his tired body to collapse against the heap of pillows.

“Sure, let’s go.”

∙

It’s almost 22:00 when Jonas pulls on his hoodie and jacket in the corridor. 

A hand slap turns into a hug and then 

“See you in school tomorrow?”, says Jonas.

“Sure.” 

“Cool.” Jonas smiles back, hand already on the door handle, when Isak clears his throat.

“Um, could you _not_ tell Mikael? About me. Just…”  
“Of course.” Jonas says simply. “…I’m not telling anyone, unless you want me to...?” 

“Nah, I think, I… Should probably do it myself.”

Jonas nods. “Good call, man.”

Isak nods too in response and then Jonas opens the door. 

“See you, Is.” 

“See you, bro.”

Isak feels warm and comfortable when he closes the door behind Jonas and pads back to his room to flop down on his bed.

Lazily picking up his phone from where it’s been charging on the floor besides his bed, he sees a couple of Instagram notifications on his lock screen. He slides it open and goes to Instagram.

Elias has posted the [picture of him from the kebab place](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/641945117922623488), where he’s looking hangry and broody as hell, and tagged him.

**Don’t mess with @isakyaki when he’s hungry.**

Isak rolls his eyes slightly at the caption and scans over the comments and likes, eyes settling on a name.

art_vandeley. 

Something about it rings a vague bell. Seinfeld something. 

He clicks the name and lands on a closed profile. No profile picture or bio.

With a slightly shaky press of his thumb, he hits the follow request button. Worst case it’s just some random dude. 

A few moments later, the request is accepted, and he clicks on the name again to open the profile. 

There’s only one post there. From a few days ago. It’s a simple [black-white drawing](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/641943863260545024) captioned with something he suspects could be song lyrics.

_We are only boats floating under the same sky._

He googles the words, eyes scanning over the search result, when he sees that it is indeed song lyrics. He reads them a couple of few times.

_We are only boats floating under the same sky  
Drifting into one another once in a while_

His heart skips a beat. Could it be-

He flicks his tongue over his lip for a second, thumb hovering over the DM button, then decides not to.

Too desperate.

Taking one last look at the post, he then quits Instagram and flops down on bed, leaving his phone on his bedside table.

After going to sleep he wakes up at 1 am, 3 am and 4 am to obsessively check if art_vandeley has sent a follow request back.

No new notifications. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics from _Sky_ by Emilie Nicolas.
> 
> Kindly betaed by eirabach.


	18. Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: Mikael’s _mind-blowing_ weed, merging squads, Grindr, 17 May and FaceTime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this amazing [fanart](https://sorchas.tumblr.com/post/642130658540634112/naked-blue-by-anaisanais-ao3) for this story by sorchaas! I’ve been struggling a bit with writing lately, but then the wonderful sorchaas surprised me with this beautiful art and inspiration returned. I hope you like the chapter, lovely <3

After coming out to Eskild and Jonas, it’s another couple of weeks before Isak comes out to Magnus and Mahdi. When he finally does, one afternoon after school when they’re all four getting high in his room in kollektivet, it’s surprisingly easy. Jonas is there to back him, after all. Also, the weed is fucking _mind-blowing_.

Pursing his lips into an o, Isak makes his exhale as long as possible; slowly letting out the thick cloud of smoke.

“ _Shiiiiiiiiiiiit_ , man.”

It’s a huff out to no one in particular before he passes the bong to Magnus and leans back against the pillows of his bed threatening to swallow him whole; the weed hitting him _hard_.

“’s some good weed.” Mahdi agrees with a stoned mumble, and Isak nods hazily while looking over at Magnus who’s taking a long pull and then pursing his lips to puff out a couple of smoke rings.

Isak closes his eyes for a moment, lets the feeling of instant relaxation settle heavily in his limbs.

“Mmhmm, holy _shit_.”

“It’s Mikael’s weed connection’s homegrown,” Jonas says, accepting the bong from Mahdi and taking a long pull too, holding back the smoke in his mouth before exhaling. “…Some sativa hybrid…super mellow.”

Isak feels super fucking mellow alright. So mellow that he just chills against the bed with a smile as the guys eventually pick up their usual favorite topic of conversation. Chicks. 

Magnus dreamily lets everyone in on how great Vilde is at giving head, and Mahdi supplies details about the girl from Handels he hooked up with last weekend before they lazily move on to the subject of the new girl at school; a mid-year transfer, who’s the talk of the hour at Nissen.

“Dude, you should totally hook up with her now that you’ve broken up with Emma!” Magnus smiles at him, enthusiasm showing albeit a little subdued by the weed, “…I mean, I would, but you know, I’m a taken man now.”

He quirks a lazy smile back at Magnus; since getting together with Vilde two weeks ago, it’s all he ever talks about. Like, he’s so proud of finally having a girlfriend. And losing his virginity. Shit, he’d been _so_ proud of that; walking into the school yard last Friday morning all debonair, asking them if they could tell something different about him. It’d been cute. _Weird_ , but cute. Kinda reminded Isak of a puppy proudly showing off a bone. He snickers to himself. A _bone_.

“What?” Magnus asks, and Isak realizes he just snickered out loud.

“Nah, nothing, man.” He reels in his smile and adjusts his snapback over his messy curls.

“But yo, what about the new girl, Issy? She’s hot.” Magnus tries again, leaning forward to pass him the bong, and he accepts it, putting his lips to the bowl and takes another hit.

“…Actually, I’m kinda…” he inhales, holds back the smoke before exhaling slowly, “…Not really into girls.”

It’s unplanned and somehow just slips out of him. That fucking weed. His brain feels like cotton wool; too dazed to truly brace himself for the guys’ reaction.

Thankfully there isn’t much of a reaction. He banks that the rest of the guys are just as fucking stoned as he is. And Jonas already knows, so.

After a couple of beats of silence, Magnus does pipe up though,

“What do you mean _not into girls_?”

Isak pulls a little shrug, his shoulder feeling like it’s working in slow-motion

“…I’m not into girls.”

“Wha-you’re into guys then?” Magnus’ bloodshot eyes grow a little wider, “…but you’ve hooked up with so many chicks? And Emma…”

“Yeah, but I mean, why do you think I broke up with her?”

Beside him Jonas snorts a tiny laugh, and it makes the corner of Isak’s mouth pull upwards.

Mahdi nods slowly, “makes sense bro”, but Magnus’ eyes go even wider, like it’s some sort of murder mystery solved.

“…So, you’ve been gay this whole time?”

“Pretty much.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.” Isak smiles. _Whoa._

“What, am I the only one surprised here, or?” Magnus asks, looking between Jonas and Mahdi.

Isak smiles, “I told Jonas a couple of weeks ago, so.”

“Yup.” Jonas confirms with a nod.

Mahdi half-turns to Magnus, “…I mean, dude’s into guys…” he shrugs casually, “…Not like he just told us he’s an alien or something.”

A couple of beats of silence and they all four burst into a random, weed-induced fit of laughter. _Alien_.

They’re _most definitely_ stoned out of their minds.

After their laughs have tapered off, Magnus looks over at him, squinting his eyes.

“…But uh, when you told us you’d fucked Emma…”

“…That was…” Isak grimaces, “…uh, not true.”

“Sara?”

He shakes his head lightly, and Magnus squeaks, “so you’re still a virgin?”

He quirks a shoulder.

“Yas!!” Magnus’ fist pump is so obnoxiously triumphant, it makes Isak do a slow eyeroll.

“…Yessssssss, I had sex before Issy!”

“Dude, it’s not a competition…” Jonas snorts.

“…Nah, but… I won.” Magnus smirks proudly. 

Jonas shakes his head with a lazy smile, lighting up the bong again and taking a hit before passing it to Isak.

“So Issy…” Magnus tilts his head at him almost flirtingly, “…now that you’re gay: which one of us is hottest?” he waves his hand between himself, Mahdi and Jonas, and Isak exhales the smoke with a shake of his head, lips pulling into a lazy smile,

“Maaaags…..”

“What the fuck, man.” Mahdi snorts, “…you’re weird sometimes, bro.”

“What, I’m just curious!” Magnus throws his hands up, “…just trying to figure out my boy Issy’s taste here…Like, if he _had_ to fuck one of us…”

Isak scrunches his nose up slightly. “In what world would I _have_ to fuck one of you?”

“Fuck do I know…like a post-apocalyptic kinda thing or something.”

“A _post-apocalyptic kinda thing_?!” Isak almost chokes on a laugh, “…Like when the _aliens_ have taken over, or?” His voice cracks on the word _aliens_ , and they all break into another fit of giggles.

“Brooooooo…” Mahdi shakes his head with a laugh and Isak’s lips start to tingle weirdly from laughing so hard. He clears his throat and looks at Magnus.

“…Nah but seriously, it’s not like I walk around with a boner for all dudes. I’m not into you guys, for example.”

“What, are we totally unattractive, or?” Jonas smirks, and Isak rolls his eyes with a smile,

“No, I guess not. I’m just not…” he shrugs, “…I dunno, I’m just not into you guys.”

“Pfft. Whatever. I’m not fucking you anyway, I have Vilde.” Magnus scoffs.

“Uh, but you _would_ fuck him if you didn’t have Vilde, or?” Jonas raises his eyebrows with a laugh, and Magnus takes a second to think.

“Nah. Don’t think so.”

Magnus’ flimsy answer makes Isak crack up again, “…sorry bro, you’re not really my type.”

“Your loss, Issy.” Magnus shrugs.

“Who is your type, though?” Mahdi smiles, “…Like, who _do_ you have a boner for?”

There’s a slight fluttering in Isak’s chest despite the heavy dulling effect of the weed,

“Um. Nobody.”

His mouth suddenly becomes dry. Probably from smoking that mad potent weed.

Mahdi looks at him for a second, curious dark-brown eyes boring into his green ones before relenting with an “okay, bro, it’s chill.” and leaning back, bopping his head lazily to the Karpe song streaming out from Isak’s laptop on the floor.

Isak swallows around the parchment dryness in his throat and leans over to rummage in his backpack for a water bottle. Water, water, water. He finally locates the bottle and takes a long swig, stealthily shooting Jonas a quick glance out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction to the lie, well, _omission_ , he just slipped past Mahdi.

Jonas is completely stone-faced.

∙

After a couple of unfocused FIFA matches, Mahdi and Magnus lazily get up from the pillows strewn on the floor, both announcing they’re going home for dinner.

“I’m too broke for takeout today.” Mahdi says as he shrugs into his jacket, “…and that one Grandis you claim to have in the freezer won’t be enough for four, bro. I’m fucking starving from smoking.”

“Yeah, man, me too.” Isak nods back, absentmindedly thinking that he should probably do some grocery shopping, but it’s not going to be right now. He’s still a little stoned.

“…See you tomorrow, man.” he slaps Mahdi’s hand and then Magnus’, and Jonas hangs back for a little while, slapping Magnus’ and Mahdi’s hands in goodbye too, casually leaning back against the wall as Isak sends them both out the door with a “bye guys.”

Then Jonas pushes off from the wall and they both pad back to Isak’s room, synchronicity earned through ten years of friendship.

Plopping down on the bed they resume their positions from before when they were gaming, but don’t pick up the controllers.

“See man, I told you.” Jonas smiles, “…They were cool about everything.”

“Yeah.” he nods back, lips quirking into an easy smile. “…that was way easier than I thought it’d be.”

“They’re your friends, man. We all are.” Jonas flops down on his back on top of the blue-striped duvet, with a lazy smile, “…And shit, that weed was _gooooood_.”

“Yeah, fuck.” Isak seconds letting himself flop down too, eyes settling blankly at the ceiling. He feels content, but the room is spinning just a little bit. Good to have a steady focus point. 

Out of the corner of his eye he registers Jonas turning his face slightly to look at him,

“But um, have you told your parents and Lea?”

“Uh, no.”

“Are you going to?”

“Lea, probably. And maybe my dad.”

Jonas nods in understanding,

“Not you mom?”

“No. Not right now at least.”

“Okay.” Jonas nods again and they lie in silence for a couple of moments.

“You didn’t say anything about Even, though...” Jonas then says softly. “…when Mahdi asked if you were into anyone.”

Isak exhales a sigh,

“No, I just. I don’t know.”

“But you’re still into him?”

“Ja, _herregud_. Yes.” Isak lifts a lazy hand to rub over his face, “ughhhhh.”

He catches Jonas’ smile clearly even from the corner of his eye. Not that there’s anything funny in his hopeless crush on a straight guy. Well, to Jonas maybe.

“Do you talk to him? Like on text or Insta?” Jonas asks.

“No. Not really. I mean, I saw him a couple of weeks ago right before he left for Tromsø but.”

“But you don’t talk?

“No. I’m not even sure he has Insta. I mean, he did, but he deleted it last year and yeah. I sent a follow request to some guy, I thought was him but.” He pulls a shrug, “…he never followed me back.”

Jonas frowns while pulling up his cracked iPhone from the pocket of his hoodie.

“Isn’t he art_vandeley or something? I think he follows me.”

“Serr?” Isak’s eyebrows pull together, as Jonas swipes open his phone and opens Insta.

“Yeah, I got this follow-request a couple of weeks ago, and I just assumed it was him. Because I mean, Seinfeld… And he followed Mikael and Elias and all those guys too.”

Jonas navigates to art_vandeley’s profile and shows Isak the screen.

Isak nods, “…weird. I sent him a follow-request a few weeks back after we went out for kebabs with Elias and Mikael and he liked that stupid picture Elias posted of me. And, like, he accepted the request but never followed me back. So, I just thought “ _okay, maybe it’s not him, maybe it’s just some random dude_ …”

“He liked the post?” Jonas says, eyebrows pulling up along with his lips, “…the one where you looked hangry as fuck?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Jonas’ smile is _not_ subtle.

“What?”

Jonas smirks as he’s tapping on his phone again; navigating to Elias’ profile and the zoomed-in photo of Isak from the kebab place,

“He commented, too. Fries emoji.”

“Yeah.” Isak shrugs, “I don’t even know…”

Jonas smiles in reply, then slides his phone back into his pocket. “Pretty sure it’s Even, though. art_vandeley.”

“Yeah, I guess. Just weird that he’d follow you but not me.”

“Yeah,“ Jonas concedes, “it is.”

With the weed’s mellowing effect starting to wear off, Isak feels his stomach start to churn uncomfortably.

“…Shit, do you think, he knows…”

“Knows what?”

“That I’m… gay. Into him. Whatever.”

Jonas thinks for a second.

“No? Not unless you told him? I mean, why would he know that?”

“I don’t know.” Isak shrugs, hazy mind trying to pull up how he’s acted towards Even the last couple of times he has seen him. Has he been _obvious_ , has he-

“…But like even then…” Jonas frowns, “…why wouldn’t he follow you back? I mean, we’re all friends.”

“Yeah,” he says back a little weakly, “…I guess.”

Settling his eyes on a little spot in the ceiling, he swallows thickly.

“…But, uh, you knew though…When I told you I liked guys, a couple of weeks ago, you already knew I was into him. Even.”

Jonas is quiet for a moment. Pensive. Then he shrugs.

“It was just a guess.”

“Pretty specific guess.”

“Is, we’ve been friends since we were 6, man.” Jonas smiles softly, and the gentleness of his voice makes Isak smile at the ceiling.

“True. Just… how-“

“’s not like you drooled over him or anything. Just, I don’t know. The way you look at him… Like at New Year’s; even when Emma was there you couldn’t stop looking at him.”

“Oh. Shit.” He swallows. So, he _has_ been obvious. Carelessly letting his crush show.

“Nah don’t worry, I don’t think anyone noticed, man.”

“Maybe _he_ did.” Reluctantly he turns his face to look at Jonas.

Jonas’ eyes meet his steadily.

“I can try to ask Mikael if he knows anyth-“

“No! That’s-, don’t.”

“Okay.” Jonas says, eyebrows drawing together like he doesn’t understand. He looks at him for a few moments before speaking again. “Actually Is, I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Hm?”

“Like… did something happen between you guys last year?”

“Uh…” Isak swipes his tongue over his lip nervously, “…um, no?”

Jonas’ lips pull into a little smile, “…why are you saying it like it’s a question, man?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” He says back with a little tremor in his voice, “…no, nothing happened.” It’s hollow, but now that he has said the words, he’s not going back on them. He’s not going to tell Jonas about the kiss last spring when Even was... _not well_.

“Just…” He sits back up, pulls a shrug instead, “…fuck it.” Turning on his TV again he tosses Jonas a controller.

“Call of Duty before we heat up the pizza?” He schools his feature into a smirk, “…or, is that no go for a pacifist?”

“Nah, it’s just a game.” Jonas shrugs back, “…Whatever, let’s play.”

“You can play medic…leave the sniping to me. You’ve always been a shit sniper, anyway.”

“ _What_? _I’m_ a shit sniper? Check yourself, Issy K.”

“Yeah, yeah, stick to automatics, man.” He winks back.

“ _Stick to automatics_ , what the fuck…” Jonas mutters, finally picking up a controller to navigate the game menu and select weapons, landing on an automatic rifle.

∙

A few days later, it seems that the news that he’s gay has spread all over Nissen. Probably through Vilde, though Magnus denies having told her, but Isak finds that he doesn’t really care either way. He’s got his squad’s support. And Eskild’s. Linn’s too, if you count her disinterested “ _you’re gay too, now? Okay._ ”. Eva and the other girls don’t seem all that surprised, and as it turns out, there’s no real backlash from anyone; no one really makes a big deal out of it. Not even Sara, his first “girlfriend” or Emma.

When he walks by Emma by her locker on Thursday, it’s little awkward though, so he decides to man up and do the right thing.

“Hey.” He leans against the locker next to hers and she looks up with a curt nod,

“Hey Isak.”

“So, uh, I know a guy in second year, who played this girl…” he starts.

She looks up at him, lips tight.

“…A really beautiful, awesome girl; the most beautiful girl at school actually…”

Her lips start to quirk into a tiny smile, so he continues.

“…And she really didn’t deserve that. He has been a complete asshole, and he knows that.”

She nods, but there’s still a little smile on her lips.

“…So, uh, he just wanted to apologize for that. And he hopes the girl can forgive him.” He bites his lip, squints at her apologetically.

She levels him with a look. “Tell your friend that the girl forgives him.”

It makes him smile, and he nods an affirmative. “I’ll tell him that.”

“But Isak…”

“Hmm?”

“Seriously, it’s 2017, nobody cares that you like guys…”

“Nei?” he smiles.

“No.” Emma shrugs, “…lying and playing everyone is wayyyyyy worse than the fact that you like dick.”

The word _dick_ coming from Emma makes him snort a surprised laugh. “Oi.”

The smile she sends him back is completely unfazed.

“…I’ll, uh, remember that.” He smiles.

“You do that.” She smirks, and he nods and gives her a little salute.

 _Easy_.

∙

The next day, Adrian, a cool third-year he has sometimes hung out with at parties and occasionally bummed cigarettes off, and who’s supposedly gay, comes up to him while he’s unlocking his bike in the Nissen school yard.

“Hey, Isak.”

“Hey, man.” He stands back up and sends Adrian a smile back, casually slapping his hand in greeting.

“So, uh, I don’t know if this is weird, but do you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

“Uh…” the offer leaves Isak tongue-tied. Whether Adrian means a date or a hook-up or just a couple of gay guys having coffee and bonding over coming out and being gay or whatever, he’s maybe not quite ready for _that_ yet.

“Um… thanks for the offer, man, but I don’t think…” he pulls a short shrug, trying to let Adrian down easy.

Thankfully Adrian gets it, raising both hands in understanding. “Look, it’s fine, Isak, just thought I’d ask. I mean, you’re hot, so.”

His smirk makes Isak’s cheeks heat up just the tiniest bit.

“Oh. Uh, thanks?”

“Sure. See you around.” Adrian smiles and then he’s off, casually walking across the school yard towards the B building.

Adrian has almost reached the door, when Isak finally turns around and pulls his bike out of the racks.

As he rides home, he thinks about Adrian’s offer, but the thought of going on a date with an actual guy – in public – and eventually having actual, non-imaginary sex with a dude, seems every bit as daunting as thrilling; perhaps even more nerve-wracking than hot, so for now he’s perfectly fine with Pornhub and his _very_ vivid imagination.

* * *

The next weeks roll by with seemingly endless grey winter monotony and schoolwork, but Isak breathes easier than he has in years.

Out of habit he still checks art_vandeley’s almost-empty Insta-profile daily. Still no new posts. No follow request either. So, he resigns himself to the fact that for some reason Even has no interest in following him on Insta, and he stubbornly does his best to stop thinking about him.

Come mid-February he finally caves under the pressure from Eskild and downloads Grindr, setting up an almost empty profile under the name “Markus”. No identifying marks, and just one picture; some gym progress shit Elias talked him into. Bare chest and boxers. He gets messages from guys alright, deletes most of them without even reading them, but occasionally a message hits right and he does jerk off to the anonymous, explicit words from some random, faceless guy. In spite of his stubborn attempts to forget about Even, his mind still easily fills in the blanks with his face. Hands. Lips. Voice.

He never texts back any of the Grindr dudes.

∙

For winter break, he spends five days with Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi just outside Hemsedalen, because Magnus’ grandmother has a cabin there. They rent snowboards and boots and Jonas enthusiastically tries to teach them, but when Isak the second day takes a tumble down a relatively easy trail and lands painfully on his right arm, he quits with a “…I’m not breaking my fucking wrist again, I’m out.” They spend the remaining three days cozying up in the cabin with board games, weed and beers.

When they return to Oslo, schoolwork intensifies as the school year begins marching towards its end, so Isak redoubles his efforts, studies with Sana or alone in his room, or the library. When he’s not studying, he parties, gets high with the guys, goes to the gym. He never imagined himself as a guy with a weekly - or even bi-weekly - gym routine, but well. It turns out he’s a lotta things he didn’t foresee. Including being a guy with a hopeless year-long crush that isn’t going anywhere but that he still can’t seem to shake, no matter how many Pornhub videos he watches, or how many propositions he receives on Grindr.

Going to the gym is a welcome distraction, offering him an easy counterpoint to the stress of studying, of trying to stop thinking about Even. Tiring himself with endless repetitions is easy, letting Elias spot him on the bench is easy. Coaxing Magnus and Mahdi into joining the gym too – easy.

He mostly starts his workouts with the treadmill, running until he’s out of breath and his thighs and shins are burning. Then he does weight training in the free weights area with whoever’s around, Elias mostly and whoever joins in. Mutta and Adam are regulars, sometimes Magnus or Mahdi join in. Occasionally Yousef, the most elusive of the Bakka-crew. Isak likes the way he’s more pensive, quieter, than the rest, who can admittedly be a bit much. Yousef is still easy to talk to, but slightly more _reeled in_ than the rest. He likes Yousef even more when Sana, Eva and the rest of the girls stop by one afternoon to drop some keys off for Elias, and Isak catches the way Sana and Yousef look at each other. He stores the information with a smirk, saving it for the right time to tease Sana about her obvious crush.

Contrary to trying to stop thinking about Even, hanging out at the gym with his merging squads and working out until his muscles and mind are heavy with exertion, is _easy_.

The only thing is though, that he’s not out to the Bakka-guys. He _does_ manage to tell them that he broke it off with Emma, and Elias immediate makes his interest in her known. Mutta is quick to shoot it down with a “hitting up 00’s is still not cool, man.” though, and the crestfallen look on Elias’ face makes Isak snort a laugh.

He can’t bring himself to tell them the reason for the break-up though. There’s something about the testosterone-filled blatant show of masculinity in the gym, that doesn’t quite allow for a “fyi guys, I’m gay, by the way.” He thinks about letting them in on it sometimes when they go for kebabs after the gym, and Elias and Adam go off on a tirade about hot, fit gym girls, but he keeps his mouth shut. He has never read as much as an excerpt from the Qu’ran, but he banks on it being opposed to homosexuality, and though the Bakka-squad all drink alcohol and light up sometimes, he’s not sure how they feel about this particular matter.

Also, he guesses they all still talk to Even occasionally and the thought of the news leaking to him for some reason makes his palms sweaty. 

* * *

Spring seems to bypass Oslo as if 2017 has completely forgotten about the season. It gets brighter day for day, but winter weather basically lasts until mid-April, coating the pavement with a thin layer of snow.

When May rolls around, surprising Isak and everyone else with instant-summer, blinding sun, 20 degrees and blooming Sakura, the Nissen- and Bakka guy squads have merged to the point where they all communicate in one large group chat, planning gym sessions, sending each other memes and coordinating party invites. Mutta is into Noora, Adam thinks Eva is hot, and Yousef and Sana are obviously crushing on each other, so the Bakka-crew crashes Nissen parties often enough.

With May also comes midterms and hardcore studying to conclude second year, and having a full science elective is _no joke_ , but Isak manages; setting up shop with Sana at either the library, kollektivet or her place.

A week or so before his math midterms he starts running on fumes though.

* * *

 **Mega Squad**

15:05

Anyone up for the gym today?

I need a break from cramming for my fucking math midterm

Elias: Oi, math…that’s like the worst possible midterm…That or physics.

Mutta: @Elias: Remember in first year when you and Even flunked your math midterms.

Elias: Wallah bro, I’m getting flashbacks rn. Anyway @Isak: I’m in.

Adam: *Raised hand emoji*

Mutta: *Raised hand emoji*

Magnus: In. Need a fckin break too

Mahdi: *Raised hand emoji*

Jonas: Pass *cigarette emoji*

Mikael: @Jonas: Meet up at the bowl?

Jonas: @Mikael: Deal

* * *

He goes hard at the gym, blasts NWA loud in his earbuds while mindlessly pushing off sweaty curls as he ups both the tempo and the incline on the treadmill, simulating up-hill running.

Afterwards he launches into a crunches competition with Mahdi and then he continues to the free weights.

“Oi, Isak, 60 kilos.” Elias commends him from where he spots him at the bench, but Isak is competitive, so he lets Elias add weight until his arms feel weak with the overproduction of lactic acid in his biceps.

∙ 

Jonas and Mikael wait with boards in hand, when Isak and the rest of the mega squad spill out the gym doors and into the sunlight, freshly showered and in clean shorts and t-shirts. 

“Yo, what are you guys doing for 17 May?” Elias asks, as they all migrate to their bikes.

“Dunno, man.” Isak smiles back, “…What are you guys doing?”

“ _Partying_.” Mutta smiles like _obviously, bro_ , and Isak smiles back,

“Of course.”

“We should meet up or something, man.” Elias smiles, gesturing at their scattered squads, and Isak quirks an easy smile.

“Sure. Sounds fun.”

“Bring Noora and Vilde and those chicks…?” Elias smirks, and Isak pulls a shrug. “Sure.”

“…What about Vilde?” Magnus asks obliviously as he walks into earshot, using Isak’s shoulder for leverage for a little jump.

Isak smilingly jerks his head at Elias, “Elias wants to party with your girlfriend on 17 May.”

Magnus eyes Elias, who laughs back, raising a hand placatingly. “Oi, don’t twist my words, bro. I just said, it’d be fun to party together, with the chicks, too.”

“Sounds fun, yeah. With a huge party?” Magnus smiles, looking between Isak and Elias before settling his eyes on Elias. “…as long as you keep away from Vilde, I mean.”

“No worries, man.” Elias smiles with a nod, “bros before h-“

“Watch it.” Magnus says, and Isak snorts a laugh. He’s never seen a more protective boyfriend than Magnus.

∙

Isak starts 17 May with brunch at kollektivet with Eskild, Linn and Noora before Eva, Chris, Vilde and Sana join in a little later.

Eskild and Linn are already dressed - both in bunads - when Isak pads up to the decorated living room table around 9 am, in sweatpants and his worn-out old Simpsons t-shirt.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Eskild waves a hand at him, “…it’s 17 May.”

“Um. Just got up.”

“Go put on your bunad, baby gay…” Eskild shoos him, and Isak raises an eyebrow,

“Don’t have one.”

Eskild flat out gasps. “You don’t have a bunad?”

“Uh, nei?” he leans in to pour a glass of orange juice. “…What? Noora isn’t wearing one either.”

Noora sends him a blinding smile, wearing a classy dark-blue dress, red lipstick flawless. “I _am_ dressed, though.”

“You look pretty, Noora. You look pretty in anything.” Eskild coos, smacking his lips at her.

“Thank you, Eskild.” She smiles back, slicing a piece of bread.

“…Unlike Isak here.” Eskild jokes, and Isak rolls his eyes. He can’t do banter this early in the morning.

“Kidding, jeez.” Eskild says, “…you’re handsome too, baby J.”

“Thanks, Eskild.” He deadpans, reaching for the coffee.

“…But you know it wouldn’t kill you to _get dressed_ …” Eskild’s voice trails off, and Isak slowly pours up coffee, then leans back in his chair, making no move to get up. 

“…Well, I’m not opening the bubbles before you get dressed.” Eskild sasses.

“Whatever, I don’t like champagne.”

“Isak!” Eskild gasps again.

Isak shrugs in reply, then takes in Eskild in his bunad and the table decked out with balloons, confetti and Norwegian flags.

“Ugh, fuck it,” he finally mutters and gets up from his chair, padding into his room to get dressed. He returns to the living room a couple of minutes later in dark jeans, and a dark grey dress shirt. The shirt is a couple of years old and a bit short, stretches a little tight over his shoulders and chest, but it’ll have to do.

“Happy?” He plops back down in his chair, finger-combing his hair and Eskild looks at him appreciatively.

“So handsome, Baby Gay. All that time in the gym is starting to pay off, you’re not that scrawny anymore. A couple more gym sessions and you’ll be bursting the seams of that poor shirt.”

Isak dips his chin to look down at himself; he’s still lean, but his biceps have grown a little. No danger of him getting really ripped and bursting any seams any time soon, though.

“Hardly.” He deadpans, but Eskild just winks,

“Let me know if you need someone to snap new pics for your Grindr profile.”

“Yeah, thanks, I will _not_ need that.”

“Isn’t Grindr all about dick pics?” Linn finally pipes up like waking up from a daze.

“Abs and pecs too, Linn.” Eskild corrects.

“Okay,” Linn nods, “…makes more sense then. I thought you wanted to take pictures of Isak’s dick.”

“I mean, sure, but I’m banking he’s capable of doing that by himself. Aren’t you, Issy?” Eskild smirks at him.

“Ugh.” Isak rolls his eyes at the ridiculous conversation and insinuation. “…I’m not sending random dudes pictures of my dick.”

“Why not?” Eskild asks incredulously.

“Uh, because it’s awkward.”

“It’s not!” Eskild argues. ”…Think of it as a little gift to-“

“ _Little_?” Isak says, mock-offended and Noora snorts a laugh, quickly covering her laugh with a cough and looks down at the table with a smile.

“Who _do_ you send dick pics to then? I bet you’d send one to… what’s his name… the guy you used to have a crush on…” Eskild smirks, finally popping open the bottle of champagne, “ _Even_ , wasn’t it?”

Isak flushes at the thought. _Used to. Right._

The color rising to his cheeks only stokes Eskild’s fire of torment.

“I can see I hit the nail on the… whatever. You’ve sent him a dick pic!”

“I haven’t.” Isak replies, focusing on leaning in and slicing a piece of bread. He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the bread, “…he’s straight. Has a girlfriend. So.”

“Hm.” Eskild scoffs, “…I hooked up with a guy last week who had a girlfriend. Some sort of open relationship-“

“Eskild, no.”

“I’m just sayin-“

“ _Nei_.”

“Okay.”

The buzzer is the most welcome sound Isak has heard in a long time, and when Eva, Sana, Vilde and Chris bounce in the door a few minutes later with a couple of magnum bottles of champagne, Eskild finally stops pestering him.

Popping open one of the magnums with a triumphant “finally _someone_ who understands the true pleasures of life!” Eskild sloppily pours champagne for everyone, including Isak.

The rest of the morning is a bit of a blur.

∙

After brunch, they all tipsily make their way to the Royal Palace to watch the parade and afterwards they continue to Tøyen Park, finding Jonas, Mahdi, Magnus and the whole Bakka-crew spread out on picnic blankets on the grass; a football and a croquet set haphazardly thrown in the grass and a stack of empty beer cans are already piling up beside them.

“Yoooo!” Elias waves when he sees them, and they all plop down with blankets of their own.

“You guys missed the parade, man.” Isak smirks, as he sits down next to Jonas with a little clap on his back.

“Yeah well, I’m not big on the whole monarchy thing, y’know.” Jonas shrugs, cracking open a new can of beer and Isak snorts a laugh back, “right.”

It’s sunny and warm, a perfect day for day-drinking in the park, and Isak leans back on his hands and quirks a smile as Jonas hands him a can of beer and Eva ends up in Adam’s lap after opening the second magnum bottle of champagne Eskild lugged to the park, and Sana _coincidentally_ plops down next to Yousef.

Life is good.

Later, Magnus, Mutta, Mahdi and Elias volunteer to pick up pizzas and return with some ten or twelve pizzas for sharing. Isak snags a pepperoni pizza for himself and Jonas, slapping Magnus’ hand away with an “oi, stick to your own!” before he gives, handing over a greasy slice, which Magnus chews with an open mouth.

After they’re done eating and the empty pizza boxes are tossed next to the ever growing beer can pile, Mutta, Magnus and Eskild, all in bunads, launch into a game of football, and Isak rallies Elias and Adam to make up a competing team.

From the get go it’s an easy steal of the ball from Eskild, and Isak passes it to Adam who passes to Elias and there’s their first goal; Elias double high-fives the both of them and Isak obnoxiously turns to Mutta, Magnus and Eskild to shout, “that the best you got? C’mon!”

Whether it’s the other team’s difficulty of moving in bunads, or simply because Isak, Adam and Elias are better at football, they easily get the next goal in too.

“Your time at Kjelsås IL finally paying off, huh?” Elias smirks, high-fiving Isak after he confidently scores the second goal.

“You know it.” He winks back, tricking the ball over to him.

They stop at 5-0 with amicable high-fives all around.

“Good game!” Isak smiles in a show of rare sportsmanship, when he high-fives Eskild.

“ _Good game_ , my ass. You wiped us.”, Eskild says, aggressively ruffling his curls.

“Actually, you’re right,” Isak smirks, ducking out of Eskild’s grip, “…You guys _sucked_.”

∙

The champagne, beers and booze last them until the sky turns a pale twilight blue around 11 pm, and Eskild tipsily stands up to announce an impromptu party at kollektivet. Near-empty champagne bottle in hand, he rallies the troops, and they all leave the park in one large group for the shortish walk to Løkka.

As they walk up Deichmans Gate and close in on the entrance door, Isak registers two guys leaning against the building, waiting. One guy is quite obviously wearing makeup and a pink wig, and the other guy is dressed in a tight, sleeveless top and denim hotpants. Then Eskild strolls up, greeting them both with cheek kisses, and Pink and Hotpants-guy join the group and follow them up to the apartment, where Eskild quickly settles into host-mode; raiding the fridge and the cabinet under the tv where they store leftover booze from parties, he puts all the beers and alcohol he can find on the table of the living room along with two handfuls of shot glasses and all the clean glasses and mugs available. Then he waves Isak over.

“Go get your laptop, Baby J and put on some music. And none of that old hip-hop shit, this is a party, not you jerking off in your room.”

Isak is about to protest but, well, Eskild’s not wrong. So he gives him a quick salute and goes to his own room, picks up his laptop and returns to the living room to hook it up to the speakers.

Opening Spotify, he struggles to think of a good party song. When he clicks on some generic party playlist, his eyes get stuck on the first track. _Where are Ü now_ \- Justin Bieber, Skrillex, Diplo.

_Nope._

Jonas sidles up to him, beer in hand and smiles. “What’s up, man?”

“Uh, Eskild put me in charge of music, but,” he shrugs, waving a hand at Spotify, “…It’s all shit.”

Jonas snorts a laugh and leans in, “Here, let me.” He flicks his finger over the mousepad and puts on Madcon. As he turns the volume way up, the living room erupts in cheers and dancing; 12 hours of day-drinking easily gets the party kicking again.

“Good choice, bro.” Isak smiles, bopping his head along to _Don’t Worry_.

“I know right?”

When the song fades out, Noora comes up to the laptop, hip-checking Jonas and Isak both to put on a Sia song, and Isak and Jonas watch as the whole girl squad launch into interpretive dance; even Sana twirls around, her long cream-coloured skirt billowing as she twirls around with a Norwegian flag clutched in her hand, and Isak’s lip pull up, when he sees Yousef watching with a soft smile. 

Eskild, now wearing his friend’s pink wig, joins in with an elaborate contemporary dance routine, singing “ _I’mmmmmm gonna swiiing from the chandelieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer_ '' from the top of his lungs. He twirls the guy in denim hotpants around, holding his hands tightly in his own before he dips him for a kiss on the lips, and the little show makes a weirdly uneasy feeling settle in the pit of Isak’s stomach, threatening to overtake the easy, tipsy feeling he’s had all day.

His heart rate picks up a little and he can’t help darting his eyes around the room to check for the Bakka-guys’ reactions.

There’s no reaction, though.

The guys are scattered across the room; Adam happily talking to Eva, Mikael and Jonas have taken over the laptop to queue songs for the playlist, Yousef is huddled up talking with Sana on the other couch, and Mutta is taking shots with Magnus. Elias is laughing at something Mahdi says until he picks up his phone, lips parting into a huge smile, as he covers one ear to be able to hear over the music.

The music is _loud_ , but Isak still catches Even’s name, and he zones in on the conversation, watching from across the room as Elias gets up from the couch with a smile and holds his phone out, switching to Facetime.

“…Yeah, man. Me too. No, we’re at Isak’s. You should be here, bro.” Elias half-shouts over the music and stretches his hand out, panning his phone around to show Even the party, then he catches sight of him and waves him over with his free hand,

“Yo, Isak, come say hi.”

He’s frozen on the spot for about a second before his feet carry him across the floor to where Elias is standing, arm still stretched out to Facetime.

The kollektiv is dark-ish, except from the few lights on and the pale blue twilight from outside, but Elias’ screen is so bright. It’s nearly full-on daylight on Even’s end, even though it’s past midnight. Even looks to be outside, on a veranda maybe. His cheeks are a little flushed, eyes bright, his hair swept back, except for one escaped strand falling over his forehead. He’s wearing a white shirt and open suit jacket with a red rose peeking up from the chest pocket and _shit_ , Isak can’t take his eyes off him. Whatever 17 May celebration Even’s at, looks way more classy than this drunk thing they’ve got going in kollektivet.

“Hey, Isak. Happy 17 May!” Even smiles, giving a little wave at the screen.

Isak’s lips pull into a smile matching Even’s on their own accord.

“Hey Even, yeah, you too.” he nods at the screen, “…Tromsø?” 

“Kvaløya, actually, just outside Tromsø. Family cabin.” Even smiles, then pans the phone around to show Isak and Elias the view of the fjord and the mountains in the background, “…it’s cold as _fuck_ , but sunny at least.” his smiling face comes back into the frame and there’s a full-on flutter in Isak’s chest.

“Cool cool.” he nods, attempting to be _casual_ , “…looks a little more scenic than-” he raises his hand and gestures vaguely at the party behind him, and Even’s smile is blinding, eyes closing into little slits,

“I dunno, I think your place looks cool, too. Great company, too.”

Elias nods a “damn right, bro.” and it makes Isak snort a little laugh. 

“Yeah, it’s bearable.”

Something brushes his back then, and when he half-turns he sees Eskild shimmying up close to him.

“Who are you talking to?”

“…Uh, one of Elias’ friends.”

The affronted gasp from the screen makes him take a look and Even’s faux-offended face makes him smile.

“…Well, mine too, I guess. This is Even.”

The squeal from Eskild is so close to his ear, it makes him recoil a bit.

“Oh my God, is this…?” Eskild leans in even closer, plastering himself to his back to take a closer look at the screen, “…whoa. Hey there...”

Even looks a bit confused, but his smile stays in place. “Uh, hei?”

“ _Hey_ yourself.” Eskild says, voice dropping comically sultry, “…I’m Eskild. Isak’s roommate. Well, guru, really. In all things g-“

“Eskild!” Isak near-shouts in panic. It’s a close call, but he narrowly manages to cut Eskild short and dodge being outed.

“Jeez, _chill_ ,” baby J, Eskild says, resting his head on Isak’s shoulder, and Isak has half the urge to shuck him off, “I’m just talking to _Even…_ ”

“Yeah well.” Isak awkwardly looks on while Eskild worms his way into the conversation leaving him tongue-tied while he small-talks a bit with Even before finally blowing him an air kiss, dancing off to join Hotpants-guy and Vilde.

“Cool roommate,” Even smiles at him, but it’s Elias who answers,

“Yeah, Eskild? He’s awesome, man.”

Three little words, and something unfurls inside Isak’s stomach. He clears his throat,

“Yeah. He is.”

There’s a vague sound of a female voice on Even’s end and he looks at something or someone off-screen.

Sonja maybe. Isak can’t quite make out the voice.

Even nods and smiles at the voice and then looks back into the front camera, “…sorry guys, the 17 May event planner needs me to help with the bonfire, so.”

Elias smiles back. “Sure man, enjoy the rest of the night.”

“Will do. Say hi to the rest of the guys from me.”

“Sure.” Elias smiles, “…see you in about a month, man. Can’t wait to hang with you again. And good luck on your exams.”

“Yeah, looking forward to seeing you guys too. And thanks, man.” Even smiles, then another little wave, “…have fun tonight.” 

Isak nods an awkward “yeah, bye,” heart pounding in his chest when Elias ends the call.

“So, uh, Even is coming back?” he manages.

“Yeah, man, right after graduation.” Elias smiles, “…It’ll be so good to have the whole gang together again.”

“Sure.” Isak swallows, his heart rate picking up at the idea of Even returning to Oslo. To hang out with Elias and the Mega Squad. Himself included. _“Looking forward to seeing you guys too.”_ Had Even meant him too?

He praises the May Oslo twilight for being just dark enough to hide his blush.

∙

When he wakes up hungover around noon the next day, he picks up his phone first thing.

Opening Instagram, there’s a [new post from art_vandeley](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/642825974181920768/chapter-18-of-naked-blue) from last night:

It’s a landscape picture; fjord and mountains bathed in sun. The same view Even showed him and Elias yesterday, when he’d panned his phone around.

Isak double taps to like the post and flops back down, resting his phone on his chest. He closes his eyes again, about to drift off when his phone buzzes with a new notification; a follow-request from art_vandeley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta’d by the lovely eirabach. I went rogue and added another some 500 words after betaing though, so any remaining errors are 100 % my own.


	19. Window

_Introduction to Phylogeny:_

_Sister taxa are any taxa derived from a common ancestral node. For a given set of taxa under consideration, a taxon is always most closely related to its sister taxon (or taxa)_

It’s the third time in five minutes Isak’s scanned over the textbook paragraph, but he’s still no closer to understanding the supposed _logic_ of taxonomy and naming. The whole concept of taxonomy is sketchy at best; often so random that it makes his brain hurt. Like, how the _fuck_ is he to make sense of the fact that until 10 years ago cockroaches and termites were classified as separate orders, but recent phenology shows that they’re actually the same order, _blattodea_. Or the fact that cuttlefish are much closer related to snails, than to any fish, despite the name cuttle _fish_. He’ll take basically any other topic in biology or the strict rigidity of physics or chemistry or even math over this mess any day, but as luck has it his midterm in biology is tomorrow, and he has still not gotten the grasp of fucking taxonomy.

With a little sigh he gives up and finally takes his eyes off his textbook and leans back in the desk chair to the keyboard tap-tap-tap coming from Sana on his left. He looks around her familiar room, scans over the blue walls and the human anatomy poster on the wall in front of him. The Donald Trump voodoo doll sitting on the desk. He quirks a smile when he sees a needle placed smack between the eyes and he’s about to lean forward and stick one of the needles in Trump’s crotch when his phone vibrates in his jeans pocket. He draws it up and it’s a few more birthday texts; one from Eva and one from his older sister, Lea. There’s also a snap from Magnus, and when he opens it, he doesn't know whether to smile or cry. It’s a boomerang of Jonas jumping off a jetty, almost hitting the water in an endless loop. It’s captioned _Happy birthday Issy. Come to Bygdøy when you’re done nerding out._

He doesn’t reply, just slides the phone back into his pocket with a low sigh.

“What?” Sana says while keeping her eyes on her laptop screen, as he turns his face slightly to look at her.

“Nah, nothing. Just needed a second’s break from fucking _taxonomy._ ”

She looks at him over the top of her screen, “You need me to explain it to you again?”

“No, I need a fucking _break_.” He sighs, closing his eyes before rubbing both hands roughly over his face for a second, exclaiming a frustrated “ughhhh” into his palms. Spending the whole day in Sana’s warm, sunlit room cramming for the last midterm of the year is so _not_ how he envisioned spending his 18th birthday.

When he opens his eyes again Sana is watching him, looking vaguely amused by his frustration.

“Everyone is at the beach.” He says in a self-pitying explanation. “…Drinking beer. Having fun. Swimming. And we’re just…” He waves a vague hand between them and their open laptops.

She quirks a shoulder casually, “So, go. I’m not forcing you to stay. But I mean, if you want to get a 6 tomorrow…”

“Ughhhhhh.” Another whine. “…I do.”

“I’ll explain it again then, Isabel…”

He drops his head back and rolls his eyes hard before slowly pulling his head back up, settling his eyes on Sana’s.

“…And tell you what,” she smirks, “…if you do manage to get a 6 tomorrow, I’ll extend you an invitation to an Eid party on Saturday.” Her cheeks dimple cutely but it’s deceiving; she’s still looking smug as hell.

“Hah, nice try.” He shoots her a smirk right back, “…Elias already invited me and the guys.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” She picks up her textbook and flips it open. “…I forgot how close you two are.”

“I don’t know if we’re _close,_ exactly, but.”

He shrugs, silence settling between them for a moment. He clears his throat, thinking now is as good a time as any.

“Uh, Sana…”

“Mm?” she’s looking down at her textbook, flicking between pages.

“Have you, uh, told Elias about me? That I’m gay?”

She looks up from the book with a slight frown between her brows. “No. Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, “…He’s your brother and-“

“Look, Isak, I don’t go around telling people about other people. If you have something to share with my brother, that’s up to you.”

Her no-bullshit attitude makes him crack a smile. “Sure, yeah. Thanks.”

She nods, going back to her textbook, but-

“Uh, Sana?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think he’ll-,” he licks his lip, and tries a different approach. “…Or, like, what’s Islam’s stance on, y’know, homosexuality, anyway?”

Snapping her textbook closed, she draws a breath and looks up at him.

“Islam’s stance is the same as always: That all people have the exact same worth in this world, and that no person deserves to be judged, violated, criticized or ridiculed. Just like Christianity, Islam is a religion of love. Not hate. Remember that. Hate never comes from religion. It comes from fear.”

“Huh,” is what he manages in reply; her words slowly settling in his mind. And even though Sana taking a liberal stance on homosexuality is no guarantee that Elias or the rest of the Bakka guys will too, her words still somewhat reassure him.

“You’re afraid to tell him, or?” she asks, and he shakes his head in reply. “Not _afraid._ Just… I don’t want him or any of the other guys…”

_Even_

_“…_ to think differently about me.”

She nods. “Sure.”

“I mean, I like hanging out with them, so.”

“Yeah, they’re a fun crowd for sure.” She says, eyes widening a little at the last word, and he quirks a smile back.

“They are. Yousef, too.” He trains his eyes on her for her reaction and smirks when he sees her lips pull into a smile at the mention of Yousef’s name. “…Don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” she looks up, obviously trying to reel in her smile, “…uh, yeah he’s nice.”

He revels in the way Sana’s cheeks pick up color just a tiny bit.

“So, is Yousef coming to the Eid party, too?”

“Uh, no. He’s leaving for Turkey tomorrow, so.” She fiddles with a pen and it is so completely un-Sana-like, he can’t think of a time he has ever seen her so… un-collected.

“Oh. Sucks.” He grimaces, feeling a little sorry for her; long-distance crushing on somebody really does _suck._ He should know. “…So, when is he coming back?”

“Uh, August.” She says before drawing in a sharp breath and pointedly flicking open her textbook. When she looks up at him, her expression has rearranged back into something more familiar; cool, collected.

“…So, do you want me to explain sister species for you again, or do you want your birthday present to be a 4 or, at best, 5, in biology?”

“Ugh. Yes, please.” He waves his hand at her and leans back with a sigh, stretching out his legs under the table for maximum comfort, while she launches into a detailed, instructive explanation on taxonomy.

∙

Five hours later, he’s finally packing up his laptop and textbooks, leaving Sana’s place after a 7-hour cram session. The sun is still high, a comfortable 23 degrees and he guesses he _could_ go to Bygdøy to celebrate his birthday. But as he pulls up his phone to check the transport possibilities, he’s looking at at least 40 minutes to get to Bygdøy. Longer if he takes the train. He debates it for a second, but frankly he’s too tired; afraid he’ll just fall asleep and miss the stop. Also, he can’t stay out late, can’t even light up or drink too many beers, his exam is at 10:15 tomorrow, and he needs to stay sharp to ace it.

So, he walks towards the tram for Grünerløkka instead and shoots Magnus, Jonas and Mahdi a message in the group chat.

* * *

**Nissen boyzzzzz exclusive**

17:12

Yo.

Thanks for the birthday wishes.

Not gonna make it to Bygdøy tho.

Heading home from Sana’s after 7-hours of bio cramming

Magnus: Boooo

Mahdi: Bro, you and Sana seriously struck out with that late ass bio exam

Jonas: Yeah man we’ve been done with school for a whole week now

Fuck don’t remind me.

But I’ll see you guys on Saturday right? At the Eid thing

Mahdi: Yup

Jonas: Sure

Magnus: Yas

Cool.

Jonas: Maybe we can find a party with booze afterwards. Celebrate you turning 18.

Sure, I’m down.

Magnus: Or! Listen! We can go to a gay club! Hook you up with some dick for your 18th?!!

Uh I don’t know

Magnus: I can be your wingman

Haha. Sure, Mags.

Magnus: Sweet! See ya Issy

See you.

At the Eid thing.

And we’ll take it from there.

Jonas: See you, man

Magnus: *eggplant emoji*

* * *

He smiles closing the chat and then slides his phone into his pocket to board the warm and stuffy tram.

As soon as he sits down, he’s pulling his phone back out though; settling in to scroll Facebook and Insta to pass time and keep from falling asleep against the grimy tram window; grease and dust even more noticeable in the sharp sunlight. He straightens up in the seat, resists the urge to lean his face against the window, and scrolls a few posts down his feed, eyes settling on a new post. [art_vandeley](https://anaisanais-stuff.tumblr.com/post/643399026335776769). 23 minutes ago. It’s a close-up of a ladybug hanging on to the laces of what he recognizes as Even’s Air Jordans. Captioned with a four-clover emoji. It’s a cute picture, and he double taps to like it before reading the location tag. When he does, it makes his heart rate pick up instantly.

_Grünerløkka_

It’s the first news he’s gotten of Even being back, and his palms go clammy as he instinctively looks up from his phone and out the tram window as if Even will magically materialize outside, now that he’s apparently back in Oslo. Unsurprisingly he doesn’t; it’s just the regular Wednesday late-afternoon traffic and random people dotting the streets, and Isak almost rolls his eyes at his own irrationality. He’s restless for the remainder of the tram ride though; wondering if the picture is recent or was taken earlier today or yesterday and only just posted now. He fiddles with his phone in his hand and opens up Instagram a couple more times to study the photo, narrowing down the patch of grass in the background to a handful of parks in Løkka. For a moment, he entertains the idea of getting off the tram earlier or later than his Løkka stop, but in the end, he gets out at Schous Plass as usual and makes his way to kollektivet. No Even in sight.

The apartment is quiet, so he goes to his own room, sets down his backpack and tiredly flops down on his bed, automatically pulling up his phone again.

Two new text messages.

* * *

**Dad**

17:27

Happy 18th birthday Isak!

I was thinking we could celebrate with lunch tomorrow after your exam?

How about Villa Paradiso in Grünerløkka at 12:00?

* * *

He sends his dad back a quick “thanks.” and a thumbs up at the lunch offer, not bothering to correct him that it’s actually a midterm and not an actual exam.

Then he opens the next text, bracing himself for a jumble of words. It’s neat, though. No typos or mixed-in capital letters.

* * *

**Mamma**

17:23

Dear Isak. Happy birthday. 21 June 1999 21:21.

I can hardly believe my handsome angel is all grown up.

I love you and hope I get to see you soon.

x Mamma.

* * *

_I love you._

It’s a strange feeling to see the words so casually written in a birthday text, and as he scrolls up and reads her last texts from a few months ago, he briefly questions if the text is even coming from her. Like, maybe his dad wrote it from her phone in some sort of misplaced bout of sympathy. “ _Angel”_ though. It’s what she used to call him back when he was a kid with long, blond hair.

He quits the message and goes back to the convo with his dad.

* * *

**Dad**

17:31

Are you with mom right now?

No, I’m at work. Why? Is something wrong?

No. Nothing’s wrong. 

* * *

He reads his mom’s text again, scanning over the words, as his eyes slowly fill to the brim.

_I love you._

Placing his phone screen-down on his chest he closes his eyes just before a tear escapes.

∙

∙

It’s part impatience and part nerves that has him walking into Nissen the next day a whole 45 minutes before the announced time of his midterm. Sana has the time slot before him, and he’s banking on her being there in ample time too. He’s hoping to wish her good luck and maybe suss out which topic she has drawn to try to mentally narrow down the possibilities for his own draw.

The school is completely empty, all other exams and midterms completed in the last few weeks, but their biology teacher fell ill with pneumonia, and the second-year biology midterm has been postponed until today. 22 June. The absolute last possible day before the school year officially ends tomorrow. 

Walking into the silent B-building, he wipes his slightly sweaty palms on his thighs and walks up the familiar stairs. He spots Sana outside the classroom; leaning against the wall with one leg bent at the knee, the sole of one squeaky clean white sneaker up against the wall. She’s typing on her phone, smiling softly at the screen.

“Hey, Sana!”

She looks up at his voice and puts away her phone, clearly reeling in her smile.

“Isabel. You’re early.”

He nods as he zips down his jacket. “Wanted to wish my best bud good luck.”

“We are _not_ buds.” She says smugly, but there’s a little smile playing on her lips.

“We’re not?” he gives her his best fake-offended expression before squinting his eyes. “...So, are you telling me I spent my 18th birthday cramming with…my enemy?” it’s his faux gasp, that has Sana rolling her eyes at him before settling into a smile,

“Fine, we’re buds.”

“We’re buds.” He nods back, taking off his snapback and putting it in his backpack, “So, good luck. Bud.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She smiles, eyeing him zipping his snapback into his bag and the navy pullover showing under his open jacket. “Look at you looking all…grown-up.”

He quirks a single eyebrow back at her, “…that’s what happens when you turn 18.”

“Oh, is it?” she asks, fake-pretend, index finger resting on her lip and everything.

“Nah, just trying to up my chances of acing this exam.” He winks, trying to smooth his curls a bit and she nods back. “…You do look slightly less obnoxious without the snapback.”

He frowns back at her hard. “ _What_? _Obnoxious_?”

“I mean,” she shrugs, “…the whole douchey frat boy look.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, running his tongue over his bottom lip, as he leans back against the windowsill beside her, nodding in silence for a second before he delivers the blow.

“Yousef wears snapbacks too, you know. I don’t recall you hating _his_ douchey frat boy look…”

“Uh.”

The look on her face is priceless, and he can’t help smiling smugly before deciding to save her. Afterall, she did help him with taxonomy yesterday. 

“Anyway,” He smiles, side-stepping the Yousef-thing, “...are you ready?” He jerks his chin at the closed door, and she nods back,

“Yes. What about you? Are _you_ ready?”

“Yeah, shit. As ready as I’ll ever be. Just downed 2.5 Red Bull on the tram.”

She snorts. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Nothing.” She deadpans. “...What happened to the last half?”

“Uh, well. I had to toss it. Red Bull at 9 am is... Not great.” He grimaces, and it makes her snort a laugh,

“No, I can imagine.”

“Yup.” He nods, suddenly fighting the urge to burp at the thought of some 60 centiliters of Red Bull slushing around in his stomach.

The door to the classroom opens then, and their bio teacher pokes her head out. “Sana. Come in.”

Sana nods and pushes off the wall to follow their teacher into the classroom.

“Good luck.” He says sincerely, and she casts him a last glance and a nod over her shoulder.

The door closes behind her, and he hops onto the windowsill and zones out for a while staring at the note of paper hanging on the classroom door, letters in bold capitals:

**MIDTERMS**

Some twenty-five minutes later, after extensive scrolling on his phone, flicking through his notes, powering up his laptop and turning it off again, the click of the door makes him look up, and Sana strolls out wearing a confident smile.

He puts his phone away, sliding it into the pocket of his jeans.

“So, how did it go?” 

“6.” She smiles. “…And don’t worry, I got taxonomy, so that one’s out.”

“Thank fuuuuck.” He breathes out a long sigh of relief. “Congratulations, Sanasol!”

“Thanks Isabel.”

Their teacher then pops her head out with a “Isak, you’re up. Come on in.” and he hoists up his backpack and walks towards the classroom door.

“Good luck.” Sans smiles as he brushes past her on the way to the classroom, and he gives her a quick salute back as well as a “thanks.”

Inside he sets his backpack down and follows the teacher to the desk with neatly laid-out pieces of paper lying face down.

He randomly picks one, internally praising his luck when he reads it:

  1. _Describe the difference between meiosis and mitosis_
  2. _Describe the cell cycle and the two major phases: interphase and the mitotic phase_
  3. _Describe and analyze the five stages of mitosis_.



Walking back across the floor, he confidently sits down opposite his bio teacher and the censor and he _kills it._

∙

Twenty-five minutes later he proudly walks out of the room to see Sana sitting in the windowsill.

She looks up at him, when he shuts the door to the classroom behind him, his body still buzzing with adrenaline and possibly from metabolizing all that Red Bull.

“So?”

“So…” He smirks, “6.”

She nods back with a smile and jumps down from the windowsill smoothly, her long black skirt rustling slightly as she shoulders her backpack.

“Congratulations, Isabel.”

“Thank you Sanasol.”

“Consider it my birthday present to you.” She smirks, and he rolls his eyes slightly at her smugness.

“Pfft, I drew meiosis-mitosis, and you _know_ I know my shit, so.”

“You didn’t know your shit all that well before yesterday.” She counters, and he finally relents.

“Okay. Fine. Consider me helping you to a 6 in physics my Eid present for you, then.”

“Will do.” She smiles brightly and tilts her face towards the exit, and he nods, walking up next to her and even opening the door for her.

“Oi. Thank you.” She says drily to his unexpected show of chivalry.

“Go ahead.” He smirks, stretching out his hand to gesture for her to go first and they both bounce down the stairs, elated to finally be done with second year - almost a full week after their friends, but with a couple of 6’s under their belts.

They part ways outside school with shared “see you Saturday”’s, and Isak heads for the tram back to Løkka to meet his father for lunch.

He gets out at the tram stop at Olaf Ryes Plass in Løkka and walks along the little park to the Italian place on the corner where they agreed to meet. It’s a little chilly and a light drizzle, but he still briefly scans the covered outdoor seating for signs of his father. He doesn’t see him, so he steps inside and quickly spots the back of his head at the far end. Table by the window. Coming closer, he sees someone sitting directly across from his father. Mamma.

It makes his heart stutter in his chest, completely unprepared for meeting his mom for the first time in ages. Wracking his brain, he tries to think of the last time he saw her. Must’ve been at Christmas. When he was dating Emma. He swallows hard and continues walking towards the table, forcing one foot in front of the other to finally reach his parents.

“Isak!” his father smiles, as he comes up to them and drapes his jacket over the chair next to his dad. “…So good to see you, son.”

“Hey dad.” He nods as he sits down and then looks over at his mom. “Hei, mamma.”

She looks more put-together than he remembers seeing her in a long time.

Resting his arm on the table, she places a cool hand on his forearm where he has pushed the sleeve of his pullover up slightly. “You look so handsome my boy. Grown up.”

Now that the midterm is over, he feels a bit overdressed; a bit like a choir boy in his navy pullover and without his snapback, but her words still make a feeling of warmth unfurl in his stomach, and he dips his head once, smiles.

“Takk, mamma.”

When the waitress comes around, his father takes the lead and orders three pizzas and two beers and a soda. The waitress smilingly returns a minute later, setting down a beer before Isak and his dad each, and the soda in front of his mom.

It’s silent between them as his father pours his beer and then pours up for his mom, and Isak pours his own beer into the tall glass and takes a sip. Then his father speaks up.

“So, how did your exam go?”

Isak licks at the foam on his upper lip. “It went well. Biology. 6.”

“Congratulations, Isak. Well done.” his father smiles, raising his glass in a toast and his mom raises her glass too with a “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He almost blushes from the unexpected parental praise, and quickly raises his glass to take a sip of beer.

“So, now you only have one year left.” His father says setting down his glass, and Isak nods.

“…And then what?” his father’s gaze is curious.

“Uh. I don’t know, yet.”

“Medicine, perhaps?”

There’s no mistaking the ill-disguised hope there for him to become a doctor _._ And it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. Applying for med-school next fall like Sana, but.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, dad.”

“There’s still time.” His mom says unexpectedly. She nods then, perhaps mostly to herself. “You will know, when you know.”

Isak just stares at her for a second, beyond surprised at her support. He gives a curt nod himself and picks up his beer again, taking a sip.

He’s just setting the tall glass back down when he catches something out of the corner of his eye that makes him turn his head slightly to look out the window to his left.

Outside, coming out from the little park on Olaf Ryes Plass are Mikael and Even. They cross the street directly across from the restaurant, both smiling in hoodies with the hoods pulled up and black jeans, with to-go cups of Tim Wendelboe coffee in their hands; the perfect picture of Bakka-hipsters. He’d file away the information to taunt them with it later, if he didn’t feel so utterly dumbstruck; panic rising irrationally in his chest as he’s unable to look away but at the same time painfully aware that he’s actively making everything worse the longer he stares at Even.

He’s surprised at seeing Even, but it’s the thought of his mother seeing him, recognizing him, that makes him panic. The boy he kissed in plain sight outside the house last year.

A couple of seconds pass before Even sees him too, his lips pulling into a surprised smile when he catches sight of him through the window. The slightly panicked look on Isak’s face must translate even through glass though because it’s barely one second before Even rearranges his features into something else. It’s a subtle shift, but Isak catches it before Even ducks his eyes and then looks over at Mikael, who’s talking animatedly, oblivious of Isak on the other side of the window. 

And Isak is frozen on the spot, still unable to look away from Even, but at the same time aware that he _has_ to look away, _has_ to check whether his mom has caught sight of him too. Whether she remembers him.

When he finally tears his eyes away and looks at her, she’s already looking back at him, expression unreadable, and Isak feels himself flush violently.

“…Friends of yours?”

His father’s voice is warm and steady, his gaze curious as he looks out at Even and Mikael’s retreating backs, and Isak hurries to nod.

“Yeah. Uh.”

He pushes the chair out to stand up, “…Uh, I’m just gonna…” he jerks a thumb in the general direction of the restrooms and tries to make his exit as casual as possible despite his legs feeling like they could give out under him. On his way to the restroom he risks another short glance at Even turning around the corner of the building and then he speed-walks to the men’s to try to calm the fuck down. His hands are a little shaky as he turns on the cold tap to splash water onto his wrists, his heated cheeks.

 _Shit_. _Shit, shit, shit._

He doesn’t know he’s muttering out loud until a 40-something year old guy looks at him from the other sink, and he shuts his mouth, stares down at his hands and the cold water running over them.

When he returns to the table, their food has arrived, but he has no appetite for the fancy wood-oven pizza in front of him. His palms still feel clammy, fingertips cold, when he half-heartedly picks up the knife and fork.

“Eat.” His mom says, and he looks up to see her smiling softly at him, “…it’s good.” She gestures at his pizza and he nods back weakly, cutting into the warm slice and burning the roof of his mouth slightly. 

A slightly awkward hour later, they’re saying their goodbyes outside the restaurant, and there have been no mentions of Even or the fact that he’s indeed the same guy mamma saw him kissing outside the house last year. Isak wonders if perhaps she doesn’t remember him or didn’t recognize him with his hood pulled up. What an incredible strike of luck.

His dad waves down a taxi for his mom, and Isak hugs her goodbye; she seems tiny, he’s towering almost a whole foot over her, which she notices.

“You’ve gotten even taller.”

“Yeah.” he smiles with a little pull of his shoulder, “…I guess.”

“Stronger, too.” She says, looking him straight in the eyes, and he doesn’t know whether it’s a metaphor or she means that he’s not quite the scrawny 17-year-old boy anymore. He settles for a nod. “Yes.”

She takes another long look at him, then raises her hand to his cheek, caressing it lightly. Her fingers are cool against his skin and his eyes for a split-second flutter closed at the soft touch before he snaps them back open; his mind reminding him to stay alert.

“I love you, son. Never forget that.” She says gently, and he can only nod, throat constricting almost painfully.

Then her taxi pulls up, and she steps away with a smile and his father opens the backseat door for her and she carefully sits down and buckles the seatbelt. Then his father carefully closes the door and she raises a hand in a wave, Isak mirroring it from the outside as the taxi pulls off from the curb.

His father is silent while the taxi pulls away, then he turns to him.

“You know how your mom gets tired. But I was thinking we could get a cup of coffee? Just the two of us.”

“Uh. Sure.”

His father sends him a side-glance as they start walking.

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited your mom to join us today?”

“No, it was…Nice.”

They smalltalk a bit as they stroll along Akerselva, just easy talk about school and kollektivet and his father’s job and they end up at the Markveien branch of Kaffebrenneriet, just a few streets over from kollektivet. As they come up to the café his father nods at a vacant table outside and Isak snags the table, while his dad goes inside to order coffee, returning a few minutes later with two filter coffees with milk.

“You take milk, right?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Isak accepts the warm porcelain cup from his father and brings it to his lips.

“…Thought we could sit outside for a while.”His father smiles, “…It’s nice now that the sun is out.”

“Mhmm.” He hums back in agreement, squinting up at the sky, where the sun is peeking out from behind a cloud.

“So. Is everything alright with you, Isak?” his father asks softly, tentatively, but his eyes are intent on his, like he has been waiting all day to ask this question, and Isak nods back a slightly confused “uh, yeah?”; a little taken aback in the sudden shift from smalltalk.

“You still see Jonas, right?”

“Yes. Of course.”

His father nods. “What about your, uh, girlfriend… Emma?”

“Oh.” Isak swipes his tongue over his lip, realizing how long it has been since he has talked properly with his father. Recognizes the subtle question there, too. “Uh, we’re not together anymore.”

“No?”

“No. I broke up with her in January I think.”

“Oh. Well.” His father says almost sheepishly, but Isak knows he’s not exactly the most talkative son either, so.

“I, uh…” he starts, looking at his father before dropping his gaze down at the coffee cup resting in his palm. “I wasn’t in love with her. Or any girl, really.” He flicks his eyes up at his father. “I’m gay.”

He keeps his eyes on his father, looking for the reaction, and his father looks at him for a couple of seconds, just enough for him to start sweating a little in his pullover. Then his father nods.

“Okay. That’s-, I mean. Okay.” 

It’s a little helpless, but it doesn’t seem like his dad objects _per se_ , so Isak quirks a little smile,“ _Okay_?”

“Yes, I mean-” His father picks up his cup of coffee, takes a sip and then puts it down again. “Thank you for telling me, Isak. I’m-, it’s-“ he nods to himself, and Isak watches patiently as he recognizes his father struggling for words.

“…Uh, have you told Lea?” 

“Yes. A few months ago.”

His father nods, “that’s good.”

“Yeah.”

The question of _mamma?_ hangs unanswered between as they finish the rest of their coffees switching to amicable small talk, but Isak feels content. At least now his father knows too.

When he’s finished with his coffee and there’s a lull in the conversation, he leans back in the slightly rickety chair, sending his dad a smile.

“Hey dad, have you ever been to an Eid party?”

His father smiles back at him. “Can’t say that I have. _Eid._ It’s sorta like the Muslim Christmas, right?”

He snorts a short laugh at his father. “Not quite. End of Ramadan party. You know what Ramadan is, right?”

“Sure,” his father nods. “The fast. But, why are you asking?”

“Well, two of my friends are hosting an Eid party tomorrow, so. Just wanted to know if you had some pointers.”

His father leans back in his chair with a smile. “I don’t. Sorry. I hope you’ll have fun, though.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Me too.” 

“Your friends… are they the ones you saw back at the restaurant?”

“Uh. Well.” He feels the beginnings of a blush coming on again. “Uh, no. Or well, they’re friends, yes. Just not the ones hosting the Eid party.”

“Okay.” his father nods in understanding. “But they’ll be there too?”

There’s a smile already tugging at his lips, but he reels it in. 

“Yeah.” He answers while his heart picks up, “...I think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, full disclosure: In the original draft of this chapter a lot more was supposed to happen(!), and I do feel like a bit of a tease for hinting at bringing Even back in this chapter only to leave you hanging! But splitting the chapter in two and giving Isak the coming out arc he deserved, seemed like the better idea, so I hope you enjoyed it and continue to stay patient:)
> 
> The good news is though, that most of the next chapter is written and will upload soon ❤️ Thank you to those of you still reading this monster of a character study! I promise there will be actual _ship action_ very soon.
> 
> This chapter was kindly betaed by the lovely eirabach, who also inspired the chapter title.


	20. Eid Mubarak!

It’s more of a scramble than a graceful exit from the shower and Isak’s wet feet almost slide on the floor as he reaches for the towel, hastily tying it around his waist.

Okay, okay. Hair first.

Stepping over to the sink, he wipes his wet forearm over the bathroom mirror to clear it of condensation and inspects the mess on top of his head; lying flat and dripping wetly onto his shoulders his curls look even longer than when they’re dry, and he’s definitely due for a haircut. Has been for quite a while now; it’s been at least a month of having to borrow one of Yousef’s or Mutta’s hairbands or bandanas at the gym and his curls are getting messier and more impossible to style by the day, unless… he was to use Linn’s blow dryer…

Nei, fuck it.

He grabs another clean towel and pats it against his wet curls. Sure, he wants his hair to look alright tonight but he sure as hell doesn’t possess the level of dedication and patience needed for fucking _blowdrying_. Doesn’t have the time either. He’s behind schedule already; having spent most of the day playing Call of Duty online with Mahdi and Magnus until some twenty minutes ago when Magnus announced that he was leaving to meet up with Vilde to go to the Eid party together. Isak had checked the time on his phone and, seeing how late it was, had almost dropped his PlayStation controller on the floor in his haste to take a shower. And then the shower ended up taking a little longer than planned because he had to do _something_ to ease the tension in his body. So, it’s not like he has eons of time to do his hair now, and he still needs to pick out clothes too. Roughly toweling his hair semi-dry will have to do, but when he chucks the towel to the floor his curls are _everywhere_ and with a muttered “ugh, faen.” he flings open the cabinet under the sink and picks up Eskild’s hair gel, squirts a little dollop into his palm and draws his hand through his hair trying to tame the damp, rogue curls fluffing out above his ears.

A couple of minutes in he’s still not completely satisfied, but glancing at the time on his phone makes him finally settle on it. There are 35 minutes to go and it’s an almost 30-minute walk to Sana’s place in Uranienborg.

He abandons the hair gel, quickly pats himself mostly dry with the towel, then steps into a pair of clean boxers and speed walks to his room counting on air drying the rest of the way.

Upon opening his closet his outfit options are: Bland, slouchy t-shirts, his old Simpsons t-shirt mostly worn for sleeping, or the button-up shirt Emma gave him for Christmas. Crinkled.

Desperately he reaches into the back of his closet and flicks through the empty hangers until his fingers unexpectedly hit the jackpot. He draws his prize out; an old dark-blue denim button-up he’s forgotten about, but he’ll take it. It’s not even that crinkled, so _win_. He pops the buttons open and shrugs into it. The fit’s a little tight but could honestly be a lot worse. Next he hops into a pair of light-washed jeans, and then puts on his white and blue Nikes. He does the buttons of the shirt back up and folds up the sleeves, then takes a last look at himself in the mirror. A few finishing touches to his hair and a deep breath. Okay. He looks okay.

Go time.

∙

Sana’s place is half an hour away on foot, but he’s in a hurry so he catches a bus from Stortorvet and plops down in a seat, leg starting to bounce the second he sits down.

At the halfway mark he pulls his earbuds from his pocket and sticks them in his ears. When he hits shuffle on his Liked songs it opens with _You Gots to Chill_ , and he briefly entertains the idea that his phone can read his heart rate from where he’s clutching it in his palm, and, if so, is Apple selling the data to Spotify’s algorithm team? He turns the volume up before sliding the phone into his jeans pocket.

The bus gets stuck in a bit of traffic a few minutes later which amps up the buzzing under his skin, and he drums his fingers impatiently on his thigh until there’s finally movement again and the bus slowly, _slowly_ makes its way to the next stop where he makes the quick decision to get out and continue on foot. He hurries out, almost hitting the ground running, and takes long, quick strides for the remainder of the way to Sana’s place. Relying on muscle memory he lets his feet carry him forward, Spotify volume still turned way up to clear his mind as much as possible. It somewhat works until he comes to an abrupt stop in front of Sana’s apartment building and the gate that leads back to the courtyard. Quitting Spotify and pulling out his earbuds, he can hear the ambient sounds of the Eid party on the other side of the gate; the buzz of people talking and laughing. He steels himself with a deep breath, wipes his palms on his thighs, then opens the door in front of him and walks in through the gate.

On the other side the smell of newly cut grass combines with a delicious smell of food, herbs, and spices, and he walks further into the large courtyard dotted with people. It’s beautifully decked out with string lights and balloons, and rice paper lamps hang from white and purple blooming lilac trees. Off to one side there’s a long table adorned with Moroccan and Norwegian flags and a massive luxurious-looking buffet that makes his mouth water immediately.

He takes it all in before scanning the crowd of guests, searching for a particular face-

“…Hey!”

Sana comes up to him with a smile, and he doesn’t even catch her in his peripheral vision until she’s standing right in front of him. She’s looking radiant in a pink dress with gold details, a matching pink hijab tied neatly around her face. She looks at ease, more so than he has ever seen before, and it’s making his own nervousness stand out even more.

“…Looking for me?” She smiles and he’s quick to catch the lifeline and shoot her a smile back,

“ _Of course_. Eid Mubarak.”

“Eid Mubarak, Isak.”

Her cheeks dimple, completely devoid of sarcasm this time, and they make small talk for a little while, but he’s finding it hard to focus on her; his restless eyes constantly drifting to scan the crowd of guests filling the courtyard. So when she excuses herself to greet Noora and William he almost sighs in relief, sending her a final smiley nod and a “talk to you later” before he walks further in. 

Across the courtyard he spots Elias in a traditional Moroccan djellaba, and Mikael and Mutta both look sharp in respectively a black and light-blue button-up. Elias catches his eyes and jerks his head in a casual greeting across the yard. Isak returns it with a smiley nod of his own, and then Elias and the guys make their way over.

“Brooo,” Elias slaps his hand before drawing him into a hug, clapping a hand on his back, “…glad you could make it!”

“Yeah, me too.” Isak smiles back, returning the hug before slapping Mikael’s and Mutta’s hands in greeting, “Eid Mubarak.”

“Eid Mubarak, man,” all three guys echo.

“…Is, uh,” Isak looks around, searching the party, “…uh, Ev-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Jonas and Mahdi come up to him from behind, and there’s more hand slapping and “ _Eid Mubaraks_ ” all around.

“…Honestly,” Mahdi smirks, slapping his hand, “…didn’t think you’d be here already, man…that must’ve been one quick shower.”

He rolls his eyes in reply, but it doesn’t stop Mahdi from elaborating to the others, mouth curling into a lopsided smile,

“We were just playing Call of Duty, and then all of the sudden dude here was like _shit, I’ve gotta shower before the party, see yaaaa!_ Quit in the middle of a round. _”_

The guys all snort a laugh at Mahdi’s impression of him, but Isak feels nervousness return full throttle. He lifts his shoulder in a jerky shrug, his voice going up slightly,

“Well, it’s a party, so. Couldn’t show up looking all…” he trails off, not knowing how to end the sentence.

“Yo, I appreciate the effort, man.” Elias smirks, “… ‘m sure Sana does too, but I don’t think she’s interested.”

The insinuation makes Isak snort, because _yeah,_ _wow,_ Elias really couldn’t be more off. He catches Jonas and Mahdi exchange a look too, but low key praises his luck that Magnus hasn’t shown up yet to blurt out something like _Sana? What do you mean, bro? Isak’s gay as_ fuck.

“…No believe me, man,” he shoots back at Elias with a smirk of his own, “…I’m _well_ _aware_ of that.”

It effectively directs the attention away from himself, and the wink Elias sends him in return tells him that he’s also perfectly aware of Sana’s not-so-subtle crush on Yousef. 

After a couple of minutes of small-talk, Mr. and Mrs. Bakkoush come up to them and join in on the conversation with twin smiles,

“Hello, Isak. Good to see you.”

“Hello.” He smiles back at both of them, nodding respectfully, “Eid Mubarak. And thank you for having me. Us.” He gestures between himself and Jonas, Mahdi, who both politely introduce themselves.

“Of course. Friends of Sana’s and Elias’ are always welcome.” Mrs. Bakkoush says, and Elias hums in agreement before catching sight of someone somewhere behind Isak,and shooting the person a nod and a wide smile before excusing himself from the conversation. Mikael and Mutta follow suit with matching smiles, and Isak has a strong urge to turn around too, but he knows it would be impolite so he keeps his gaze fixed on Mr. and Mrs. Bakkoush.

“…Sana told us you did well on your midterms?” Sana’s father asks with a smile, and Isak nods,

“Yes. 6 in Math and Physics. And with Sana’s help I managed a 6 in Biology, too.”

“Well done.” Mr. Bakkoush nods approvingly, “…are you thinking of pursuing medicine like Sana?”

“I don’t know yet. I might. Sana told me you’re both doctors?”

“Yes.” Mr. Bakkoush nods, “…I’m a cardiologist and Sherin’s an orthopedic surgeon.”

“Wow.” Isak says, clearly seeing where Sana gets her ambition from. “…That’s- wow. Impressive.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Bakkoush smiles, “…I never aced a Physics exam in my life, though.” Her conspiratorial wink makes him smile. “…Speaking of Physics,” she continues, “…I don’t think we ever got to thank you for helping Elias and the boys out with tutoring.”

Even if it’s a perfectly natural continuation of their conversation it still catches Isak off-guard, everything going off-kilter for a second.

“Oh. Uh,” he stutters, fighting the color slowly rising to his cheeks, “…uh, no need, really. I was happy to help.”

“You’re a good boy, Isak.” Mr. and Mrs. Bakkoush both smile at him, and he ducks his head with an “uh, well. Thank you.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Bakkoush saves him, “…we’re not going to take up more of you boys’ time. Enjoy the party. And I hope you’ll like the food.”

Jonas and Mahdi both nod enthusiastically, and Isak says a genuine,“I’m sure we will, thank you.”

And then the Bakkoushs smilingly stroll on to the next guests, and Mahdi leans in with a smirk, clapping his shoulder with a snicker, pitching his voice a little higher in imitation, “… _you’re good boy, Isak._ ”

“Yeah, well…“ He smirks shrugging nonchalantly, “…what can I say bro, I’m every mother-in-law’s walking dream.”

“Hah! Too bad you don’t have a mom-in-law then, dream boy.” Mahdi smirks, and Jonas snorts before clearing his throat, jerking his chin towards the buffet,

“…But uh, speaking of the food, I’m starving.”

As they’re walking across the courtyard heading for the long table of food, Isak finally spots Even some ten meters off; he’s smiling and talking with Elias and Mutta, a plate of food already in his hands. This time there’s no real surprise in seeing him; it’s what he has anticipated after all, what’s been making him nervous all day and what he’s been trying to prepare for, but his heart still skips a few beats in a jumpy response to _finally_ seeing Even again. In person. For the first time in 6 months.

It doesn’t exactly help to calm his nerves that Even looks _good._ He’s in black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows exposing long, slim forearms. He wears a black leather watch that Isak can’t remember seeing before around his left wrist, and a delicate red string with a couple of beads tied around his right. Isak’s eyes catch on that detail. He’s _sure_ he’s never seen that before; sure he’d remember something so…feminine. But who has given Even the bracelet? Is it even his, or Sonja’s, or some other girl’s-

“You okay, man?” Jonas touches his shoulder, effectively dragging him out of his own mind.

“Huh? Uh. Yeah.” he forces a smile, “…yeah, I’m good.”

Jonas gives him a steady focus point to keep him from staring at Even, but when they finally reach the three and a half meter long buffet of mouthwatering Moroccan dishes Isak has no appetite, his body too on edge to feel hunger. He loads his plate with a few meatballs, a bit of salad and a piece of bread anyway, then follows Jonas and Mahdi to a table with a few empty seats. They all plop down on rickety plastic chairs and from there he can still see Even; he’s still talking to Elias and Mutta and then Mikael joins in too with a plate of food.

Even still hasn’t caught sight of him, or if he has, he’s choosing not to look his way. 

A couple of minutes of _not staring_ later Magnus plops down in the empty chair beside him with a “hey guys,” and Isak looks up in mild surprise,

“Huh. Hey. Didn’t even know you’d arrived, Mags.”

“Nah, I’m stealth as fuck,” Magnus says around a meatball, and it makes him snort a laugh,

“Uh, _that_ you are _not_ , bro.”

Magnus smilingly shrugs in reply, then jerks his chin at Even and the Bakka-guys,

“Isn’t that, uh…” He swallows his food down, “Even? Right? He’s back from Tromsø?”

The fact that Magnus can’t do basic math but remembers a guy he’s met twice over a year ago makes Isak raise his eyebrows slightly in surprise,

“Uh, yeah,”

He doesn’t remember Magnus talking with the other Bakka guys about Even, but he must have. Why else would he know Even’s been in Tromsø? Following Magnus’ line of vision to Even, Isak suddenly remembers the slight man crush Magnus seemed to have on him last year when they were still first-years and Even and the Bakka-squad were third-years. The memory makes him smile. It feels like a fucking lifetime has passed. 

“…So, he’s back?” Magnus asks, lifting another forkful of meatball to his mouth.

“I guess.” Isak shrugs casually, turning back to look at the plate in front of him.

“Cool.”

“Yeah,” Isak nods back at Magnus before daring to flick his eyes up to look at Even again.

This time Even briefly looks back before settling his eyes back on Mikael.

Isak returns to the not-even-half-finished plate in his hand, and sets it down on the table in defeat. Reaching for his can of Coke and taking a long gulp he regrets that the party doesn’t have anything stronger than soda and elderflower juice on hand.

∙

∙

Half an hour later he still hasn’t said hello to Even and it’s getting borderline _weird_.

Sitting with Jonas, Mahdi, Magnus, Vilde and Eva, trying to half-heartedly carry a conversation while looking over at Even across the yard every other minute, trying to figure out what’s going on, is slowly driving him crazy; he feels antsy as fuck and can hardly sit still. And it’s not like he hasn’t thought about just walking over to Even and saying _hey_. But the fact that Even won’t even meet his eyes is discouraging to say the least.

“Hey. Dude,” Jonas finally says, catching his attention and dropping his voice low, leaning in close enough that the others won’t hear, “…What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Isak tries to shrug it off, but Jonas just lifts his eyebrows back at him,

“You’re all jittery, man. I can feel your leg bouncing under the table.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He replies, looking down at his bouncing thigh and stilling it.

“But, what’s going on, Is?”

“Uh, nothing,” he lies, still trying to wave it off, but Jonas isn’t buying it.

“Is it Even?”

“Uh, _nei_.” Isak looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers, hoping Jonas will drop the subject.

He doesn’t.

“What’s-, is-, is this about Insta?”

Isak squints back at Jonas, trying to figure out what he means.

“Uh, _Insta_ …?” then he remembers; the whole Even following Jonas but not him on Insta. “…Oh! That. No no, he started following me like a month ago.”

“Okay.” Jonas nods, “…so what’s up between you?”

“I don’t fucking know!” He hisses back, voice pitching up in frustration, but he tries to keep the volume down at least. He looks at his feet, scraping his right foot against the grass.

“But, what the fuck? Has something happened?” Jonas asks, and he thinks.

“Well. I, uh, saw him and Mikael the other day. Through a window. When I was having lunch with my parents…”

“Okay?”

“And, like, he – Even I mean, smiled at me, but.”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. I freaked out.”

“Why?” Jonas asks, and Isak looks up at him and then takes a quick look around, at their friends, Sana’s family, the Bakka squad. Even.

“Can we, uh,” he jerks his chin towards the gate and the exit to the street.

“Yeah. Sure.” Jonas replies easily, and they both stand up, brushing bread crumbs from jeans-clad thighs.

“Yo, where are you going?” Magnus looks up at them in question.

“Gonna go buy cigarettes,” Jonas lies casually.

“Oh, cool. Can I bum off you guys?” Magnus asks, and Jonas nods a “sure”, and then they make their way to the gate. 

Isak stealthily resists the urge to turn back to look at Even again and forces himself to look straight ahead; continuing right out through the little gate and onto the street. Then they randomly turn left and walk some twenty meters down the street before both plopping down on the curb.

Isak pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on them, for a moment looking off in the direction they’ve come from to check if someone followed them out.

Jonas looks at him patiently, and Isak steels himself for finally telling Jonas the truth. Well, most of it anyway. A deep breath and _go_.

“My mom…last year, she, uh… she saw me kissing Even.” He exhales and turns his face slightly to look at Jonas.

“She-, what?”

The perplexed look on Jonas’ face would be funny if the subject matter wasn’t so _messy_.

“…Uh…” He hates the way his voice shakes a little but he powers through, “…remember when you asked me, if anything happened between me and Even last year?”

Jonas nods, so he continues. “…Well. We kissed. Outside my old house. And my mom, she, uh, saw it. Started screaming at me; how I was a sinner and a devil, that kinda stuff. Then she slapped me right across the face.”

Jonas’ eyes go wide with the realization, “…fuck, that was the time you came to my house late at night?”

 _Which one,_ he thinks bitterly, but nods.

“Okay,” Jonas nods in understanding, then his eyebrows draw together in thought,“Okay, wow. Shit. Okay, so you guys kissed last year. And then what?”

“And then nothing…Well, he sent me like 500 weird texts and then he went to Tromsø. Didn’t see him again until New Year’s. With Sonja.”

“Oh.”

Jonas looks like he’s struggling to keep up, and it’s not like Isak can blame him. It’s a weird situation.

“Yeah, _oh_.”

Jonas shakes his head lightly. “Okay, but so, what happened the other day? You were at a restaurant with your parents?”

“Yeah. To celebrate my birthday. And like, it was supposed to just be my dad, but then my mom was already there when I showed up and I thought _fuck it_ …”

“Okay…?”

“And it was fine, I mean, she was better. My mom. Much better.”

“That’s good.” Jonas’ smile is tentative, and again Isak can’t blame him.

“Yeah, and things were actually going okay, until I saw Even and Mikael outside. And then Even saw me and smiled at me and I just kinda…panicked. Couldn’t stop thinking about whether my mom recognized him. If she _remembered_ and would, like, start screaming at me in the restaurant or something.” He looks up at Jonas and licks his lip nervously, and Jonas’ eyes are steady on his own.

“Did she? Remember him, I mean.”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say anything. Then later when we said goodbye, she told me she loved me. Always will.”

His breath hitches even now two days later, and Jonas must notice it, because he puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder,“Shit Issy, that’s-“

“Yeah, I know.” He nods back, chest feeling tight.

Jonas half-turns and draws him into a hug that’s slightly awkward given how they’re sitting on the curb, but he still leans into it as his eyes get a little misty. He clears them before they have the time to fill and then he pulls back from Jonas with a tiny smile, “…Thanks, man.”

“Sure.” 

They sit in comfortable silence in the golden midsummer sun for a few moments, before Jonas casts him a side-glance and a quirky smile, “…But… you kissed...?”

“Ugh,” Isak almost rolls his eyes at the misplaced enthusiasm, “…yeah, but it was like, _once_. Over a year ago.”

“So?” Jonas smiles. “…He’s back now.”

“Yeah, but um...” He looks off, settling his eyes on a random car down the street, “…I don’t know. Now I’m thinking what if _he_ saw my _mom_? And remembered the kiss and just… I don’t know...”

“What do you mean, Is?”

He picks at a loose thread of his shirt. “Like, last year, he wasn’t-, like, I don’t think he ever meant it. The kiss. Or anything, really.”

Jonas is silent for a moment. Then,

“Why not?”

Isak shrugs back in reply,

“He was…faen, I don’t know.” The word _crazy_ is at the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say it. “…Just…Fuck it. Let’s just head back?” he nods in the general direction of the party.

“Okay…” Jonas has that look that says _are you sure_ , so Isak spares him the effort and nods,

“Let’s go.” He pushes off with his feet and stands back up, offering Jonas a hand to pull him up and they start back down the street heading back to the party. They make it some ten meters before he remembers _the cover story_.

“Oh, shit…Cigarettes…”

“Right.” Jonas chuckles, and they do a quick detour to a nearby 7/11 splitting the cost of a pack of cigarettes and then cross back the street towards Sana’s courtyard.

Jonas slows his steps as they come closer to the gate leading into the courtyard,

“But hey, Issy…“

“Yeah?”

“…I think you should just go up to him and say hi. Like no matter your _history_ or whatever, just,” Jonas shrugs casually, “…just say _hey_. I mean, otherwise it’ll be really awkward the next time we all hang out together.”

“Right,” He nods, for a second envisioning trying to ghost Even during awkward mega-squad hang outs over the summer, “…Right.”

Jonas gives him a reassuring pat between the shoulders, and he takes a deep breath and then they walk back in to rejoin the party. 

He catches Even’s eyes the moment the gate shuts behind them but then Even skips out of eye contact again to look back over at Mikael and Mutta, and _okay, yeah, fuck it._

Slapping the pack of cigarettes into Jonas’ hand he takes another steadying breath and then determinedly crosses the courtyard with a muttered _fuck it fuck it fuck it_.

At the halfway mark he notices how fast he’s walking, so he slows his steps and does his best to aim for casual as he closes in on Even, who’s casually talking with Mikael and Mutta by the looks of it. 

_Just say hey. We’re all friends._

Even looks up at him as he advances, and by the time he has made his way there Even’s expression lands somewhere between surprised and nervous.

He notices Even’s adam’s apple bob in his throat, but he can’t dwell on that now. He focuses on putting on his most _casual_ smile, and the shift in Even’s expression is subtle, going from guarded to simply hesitant. Like he’s waiting to take cues from him.

“Hey, Even. Long time no see.” It’s a decent try at casual. Not his best, but it’ll have to do.

Even takes the cue, his lips pulling into a tentative smile in response, “…Hey, Isak. Yeah, it’s, uh, been a while.”

Mikael brushes past them while muttering something about _chebakia_ and dragging Mutta after him, and Isak is grateful for the opportunity to talk in semi-private even for just a moment until someone from their huge merged friend group undoubtedly joins them.

“I, uh, thought you’d left. A little while ago,” Even says, sounding a little nervous and jerking his chin at the gate some twenty meters off.

“Uh…”

Isak doesn’t know what to make of Even clocking his whereabouts. Doesn’t know how to talk to Even sober either; can’t remember the last time they talked without either alcohol or weed or a combination of the two fueling his courage.

“…Uh, no. Just went with Jonas to buy cigarettes.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I have some if you want…?” Even’s eyebrows draw together in question, and the little purse of his lips is cute, so even though Isak usually only smokes when he’s drinking, reserves it for those nights where he’s looking to get fucked up, now seems like a good time. Even’s hand is already going to his pocket to pat down a pack of cigarettes and _well_. It seems like an invitation.

“Sure.” He nods. 

“Okay.” Even smiles back, and they weave through the crowd of guests to make their way to the gate.

Outside, Even jerks his chin at the sidewalk on the other side of the street that’s still bathed in the absolute last sunlight of the day, and they cross the street together. As they make it to the apartment building on the other side, Isak lets himself lean back against the building; the brick wall offering solid support as he watches Even pull out a half-full pack of cigarettes and offer it to him. His eyes land on the delicate red bracelet tied around Even’s wrist again, but he doesn’t say anything.

He takes a cigarette with slightly shaky fingers, mutters a “thanks,” and sticks it between dry lips.

“Sure.” Even smiles and leans in to light the cigarette for him. As he pulls back closing his lips around his own cigarette and lighting it, Isak has half the urge to lean forward to chase the proximity and the scent of him; the subtle hint of cologne wafting off Even’s sun warmed skin dizzyingly enticing. 

He doesn’t. Instead he clenches his left fist hard, blunt fingernails digging into the soft skin of his palm, as he tries to control his breathing, the way his body buzzes. He definitely doesn’t need the added stimulant of the nicotine, but he takes it anyway, inhaling deeply to have something else to focus on for a moment.

“So,“ Even says, leaning back next to him, “…enjoying the party?”

“Uh, sure. Never been to an Eid party before.”

“No?” Even raises his eyebrows with a smile. ”…How do you like the food?” He looks genuinely interested, so Isak nods enthusiastically,

“Uh, it’s really good…Sana’s mom is such an amazing cook.”

In truth, he has barely eaten, but it’s certainly not because he doesn’t like Mrs. Bakkoush’s food. 

“…Absolutely,” Even says back with a little nod, “…I’ve missed her cooking for sure.” He drops his gaze to the pavement, and Isak takes the moment to steal a glance at him – his high cheekbones and square jaw, the way his lips purse a little in thought, his hair looking so soft. It’s a little shorter than when he last saw him on FaceTime about a month ago but styled into some sorta swooping masterpiece, and Isak has half the thought that Even must’ve spent _some_ time on it in front of the mirror today, maybe even more than he did himself. Or maybe Even’s hair just _styles_.

Reluctantly he drags his eyes away and focuses on the cigarette, inhaling deeply to steady himself before continuing,

“So, uh, when did you get here?” He shoots Even a quick side-glance, catching Even’s smile out of the corner of his eye,

“The party? Or Oslo?”

“Oslo.”

“Monday. Graduated last Friday.”

He snaps his eyes up to look at Even properly, “…Oi, right. Congratulations! On graduating.”

“Thanks.”

“So, how did it go with your exams?”

“It went alright.” Even nods, then quirks a smile, “…though, honestly, I could’ve used some tutoring in Physics.”

The reference takes him by surprise, and he can do nothing but nod dumbly,

“Oh.”

Even’s eyes crinkle with his smile, and Isak realizes he must look a fool, so he tries to snap out of it,“…You, uh,” he coughs then tries to look cool, _casual_ , while stubbing out his cigarette against the sole of his sneaker, “…you took Physics?”

“Yeah.” Even smiles, following the movement with his eyes, “…Thought I’d have the benefit of a head start.”

The way Even’s eyes sparkle with mirth makes him snort a laugh.

“Okay.” He nods, “…So, did you?”

“Not really.” Even grimaces and it makes him bark another laugh,

“Well, how did the exam go?”

“Not _that_ bad, actually. I got a 4.”

“Oiii!” Isak’s lips pull into a wide smile in response, “…Congratulations, that’s pretty good!”

“Thanks,” Even nods back, “…I lucked out with the topic...”

“Yeah? What did you draw?”

“Bottle resonance.” There’s a hint of a spark in Even’s eyes when he continues, “…the only thing, where I actually _did_ have a sorta head start.” 

And just like that, Isak’s back to staring; his mind working desperately to figure out whether Even intended the innuendo there. Either way, Isak’s brain is already working overtime; settling on the word “ _head_ ” and conjuring up long-archived memories of Even’s lips pursed to blow air over the rim of a coke bottle. Something in the playful glint in Even’s eyes tells him that maybe he _did_ mean for him to get the allusion to blowjobs.

“Uh… right.” He finally croaks out, coughing again, “…right.”

He directs his eyes at the line of cars parked at the curb, cataloguing them by size in his mind to try to regain some sort of bearings. It’s another ten seconds of this before he trusts his voice again.

“So um…“ Half-turning to look at Even, he continues, “…I guess you didn’t need my tutoring help in the end anyway.”

Even purses his lips, pulls a little shrug,

“I’m sure, I would’ve gotten at least a 5, if I’d had help.”

Even’s plain bravado and eyebrow raise make Isak snort,

“Keep believing, man.”

“Ouch.” Even slaps a hand over his heart, “…O ye of little faith.”

“I’m just saying, I’d stick to movies if I were you.” Isak smirks back; he’ll take this sarcastic banter over the maybe-innuendo messing with his mind any day.

Even’s laugh is soft as he leans his head back against the building, and the golden sun kisses his cheeks, makes his hair look blonder, and Isak can’t help staring again.

“But, um,” he says when he finally drags his eyes off Even, settling them on Sana’s building across the street instead, “…you could’ve texted me. For tutoring stuff, I mean.”

“I guess.” Even says softly with a little nod, flicking at his cigarette to put it out, and then dropping his eyes to the ground. And Isak regrets his words already; regrets shifting the easy vibe from before to the elephant in the room; the last texts Even sent him over a year ago. A string of weird texts about running away together, right after they kissed and right before he texted him back _stop texting me._ The silence sits heavy between them. 

He _wants_ to ask Even about stuff. Badly wants to know about the texts. The kiss. About all of it really; why he moved to Tromsø, whether he ever meant any of it or if he felt ashamed of kissing him or _the thing_ that happened in Elias’ bathroom, whether they’re still good to hang out as part of the same friend group, if he’s still with Sonja or if he’s with another girl, whether he ever thought about Isak the way Isak’s thought about _him_. All of it. But how the fuck does one broach the topic? Completely sober with only the nicotine from a single cigarette, Isak’s heart is going wild in his chest, and any attempt at real conversation is going to be awkward at best. For both of them, probably. So he keeps his mouth shut and looks down at his feet again.

Even doesn’t say anything either.

Kicking his sneaker at someone else’s cigarette butt on the pavement, Isak finally finds the courage to speak up again, changing the topic, “…But, uh, what were you doing in Løkka on Thursday? With Mikael?”

When he looks up, Even is already looking at him; a little wide-eyed, like he didn’t expect him to bring _that_ up.

“Uh, job interview. At KB.”

“Oh. Okay.” He nods back, for a moment debating what to say next, settling on sarcasm in an attempt to get back to something _easy_.

“…But dude,” he smirks, scrunching his nose up, “…you were so clearly fraternizing with the enemy. I saw the Tim Wendelboe cup in your hand.”

Even lets out a surprised laugh, and the sound makes Isak’s lips quirk upwards.

“Yeah, you noticed? That’s very observant, Isak.”

“Observation is imperative to science. The kinda stuff that rewards you with a 6 in Physics, Even.” He winks back, and Even snorts another laugh,

“I see.”

A couple of moments of smiley silence, and then Even looks at him,

“Those were your parents? At the restaurant?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, mind starting to spiral again. He snaps out of it and clears his throat, “…yeah, birthday lunch.”

“Oh, shit, right.” Even says, pretty eyebrows drawing together,“…but your birthday was on Wednesday though, right? The 21st?”

“Uh…”

The fact that Even knows his birthday makes his heart stutter in his chest and he just gapes at Even, and again he must look a fool; like a complete, babbling idiot, who can’t even remember his own birthday. The thought that Mikael or Elias or any one of the Bakka guys could’ve mentioned his birthday to Even crosses his mind, but it’s not like he has been all that vocal about it; he’s not sure the Bakka squad even knew about his birthday or why they’d feel the need to tell Even about it. Seems random. But it’s still the most logical explanation, so.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. It was on Wednesday. The 21st.”

Even nods, eyes bright and lips pursing into a tiny smile again.

“…Well, happy belated birthday.”

“Thank you.” He manages back with a short nod.

“18, right?”

“Yes.” He quirks a smile, “…all grown up now.”

_What._

He almost flushes at his own stupidness. Who even says that?

Even’s smile is forgiving though,

“Sure. You can buy your own beers now and everything.”

“I can.” He nods, desperately trying to regain his _cool_.

There’s a moment of silence, then Even tilts his head slightly, looking at him.

“You look a little different, too.”

“Yeah? Taller?” He straightens up to his full height, puffing his chest out a little, and Even matches him; rising to his full height too.

A beat of silence as they smilingly look at each other in assessment, a simple comparison of height.

“…Something like that.” Even then says, trailing his eyes down his frame for a second, and there’s only a couple of inches between them now. Isak bets that if he were to step closer, their bodies would align almost perfectly. 

“…Uh, yeah, well,” he hurries to deflect instead, leaning back until his shoulders hit the solid brick building again, “…A lot can happen in 6 months, you know.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Even just nods, rolling in his lip in.

“I know.”

For a second it looks like he’s going to say something more, but he doesn’t. 

There’s another few moments of loaded silence before Isak breaks it again.

“But um…” he licks his lip, body humming with energy; like there’s a livewire running just under his skin, “…you’re back now? Like _back_ back…?”

Even’s nod is soft, the smile forming on his lips gentle,

“I’m back.”

∙

The rest of the night, Isak breathes easier. He hangs out in the shaded courtyard with the intermixing mega squad and even though his heart rate still picks up whenever he finds himself in the close vicinity of Even, generally it’s all good. Casual. _Ish_.

Around 23:30 the party slowly winds down; the sky a pale pastel blue; sun having dipped just below the horizon for a short intermission before rising again in a few hours. With most of the older guests leaving or having already left and Sana’s parents starting to clean up, it’s subtle; they’re not being thrown out, but. 

It’s go time.

Jonas strolls up to him where he’s talking with Elias, Adam, Mutta, Magnus and Even. With a “...yo, Issy, look up”, Jonas casually throws him a can of Fanta which he catches and opens in a single movement; the smoothness of it surprising even himself not to mention the _audience_.

“Oiii!” he laughs, widening his eyes at his own prowess, before taking a sip.

Jonas quirks an easy smile back at him, “...skills, IssyK.”

“Yeah, I don’t know…” He smilingly shakes his head in slight disbelief and Jonas laughs, then slaps a flat hand on his back,

“But, um how about that party?”

“Sure, I mean, I’m down.” He nods back easily, picking up on their earlier conversation about hitting a party to belatedly celebrate his 18th.

“...So, are we going to a gay bar? Pride Party?” Magnus pipes up jokingly, and Isak could slap him.

“No. We’re not.” He says curtly, _end of discussion_ , leveling Magnus with a look. Thankfully Elias is quick to pick up on the word _party_. Not _Pride_ or _gay bar_.

“You guys going to a party? Where?” he asks, and suddenly the whole Bakka squad – including Even – and Eva, Chris and Vilde who conveniently join in at just the right moment, are looking over at him and Jonas expectantly.

“Uh,” Isak shrugs, “…nah, we were just thinking of hitting a party-“ he starts, and Jonas takes over, shaking his shoulder a little as he looks over at Elias and the rest of the guys,

“Issy is being quiet about it, but he turned 18 on Wednesday and never got to celebrate because he had to cram for a midterm with Sana.”

There’s a chorus of “ _oohs_ ” and “ _ouches_ ”.

“Dammmmn,” Elias grimaces, “…You turned 18? And my sis made you cram on your _birthday_?”

Isak takes a quick glance at Even; Elias not knowing about his birthday must mean, that-

_No, fuck it._

“Uh, well, she didn’t exactly _make_ me,” he mutters, but Elias is already waving him off,

“Dude, no matter, _details_. You fucking _crammed_ on your 18th birthday... We’re gonna get you fucking drunk tonight, man. High, too.”

“I can pick up some jay from my place…” Mikael shrugs casually, and when Isak looks around, there are nods all around; Even sending him a soft smile, and Eva smiling a “we _have_ to celebrate you, Issy!” and he gives in.

“Okay. Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.”

“But where?” Jonas asks, and Isak shrugs in reply,

“I don’t know? My place, maybe? Pretty sure Eskild isn’t home and Linn is in Larvik all summer.”

“Chill,” Jonas says, and he smiles back, already drawing up his phone to text Eskild.

* * *

**Eskild**

22:35

Yo Eskild

Is it okay if I bring a few friends over to our place?

Sure, baby J.

Heading to a Pride afterparty with hot Brazilian exchange student

I don’t remember his name so I just call him Thiago.

He doesn’t seem to mind if the hand down my back pocket is anything to go by if ya know what I mean

Sure. Sounds uh fun

But you’re sure it’s cool?  
That I bring some friends over

Absolutely.  
There should still be some bottles in the cabinet.

Sweet thx

Have fun!

And don’t wait up for me wink wink 🍆

* * *

He pockets his phone with a smile,

“Okay, we can go to my place if you guys are game…?”

There’s a chorus of _yesssss_ ’es, and a few minutes later they’re all gathered on the pavement outside the courtyard, unlocking bikes and trying to coordinate who’s on bike and who’s taking bus or tram. Isak ends up catching a ride on the back of Jonas’ bike; Even, Mikael, Mutta and Elias coming up fast beside them, trying to get Jonas to race.

And as Jonas picks up speed, and the sudden downhill ride makes Isak’s somewhat carefully styled curls go _everywhere_ , and he surges into Jonas’ solid back with an “oomph” at an unexpected red light, all he can do is laugh. He steals the snapback from Jonas’ head and places it atop his own mess of curls, and Even looks back and smiles at him from a few meters ahead, jokingly warning them about crashing and him breaking his wrist and not being able to air quotes _catch soda cans_. And it makes him laugh until his cheeks hurt with how happy he is right now; riding through the midsummer twilit pastel streets of Oslo, on his way to celebrate his 18th birthday with all his friends. 

Sure, there’s the minor detail that he’s still crushing hard on one of his _friends_ , and he’s likely looking at a summer of supremely blue balls as he platonically hangs out with Even and their merged mega squad, but other than that, for once, life is fucking _chill_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole summer of blue balls? 💙
> 
> Betaed by the lovely eirabach <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and/or a comment if the story made you feel something. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Also: Come talk to me at [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anaisanais-stuff)! I’ll be posting snippets of related content, tagged with #nakedblue and my ask is open if you have feedback/questions about this story!
> 
> And check out sorchas' amazing [fanart](https://sorchas.tumblr.com/post/642130658540634112/naked-blue-by-anaisanais-ao3) for this story <3<3


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